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almostempty · 1 month

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Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh)

AO3: HERE

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Masterlist: Here

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe.

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice.

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question.

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling.

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes.

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :)

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no.

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not.

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response.

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease.

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door.

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy.

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud.

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging.

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible.

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new.

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right?

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type.

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach.

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees.

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance.

“Good.”

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship.

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor.

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter.

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes.

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire.

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious?

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks.

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really?

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date?

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy.

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here.

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look.

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different.

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center.

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly.

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes!

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot.

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost.

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt.

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed.

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight.

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.”

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public.

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade.

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor.

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.”

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans.

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air.

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on.

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide.

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off.

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot.

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you.

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far.

“Here?” you ask him softly.

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress.

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you. He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?”

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure.

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release.

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again.

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours.

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right.

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin.

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off.

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.”

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free.

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you.

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks.

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle.

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out.

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks.

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue.

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.”

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth.

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter.

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause.

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess.

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?”

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out.

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door.

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text.

Joel: Miss me?

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something.

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark.

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley.

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.”

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home.

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space.

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off.

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you–

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare.

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now.

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him.

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls.

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin.

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?”

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose?

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?”

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed?

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him.

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed.

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.”

A tremor runs through your body.

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in.

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons.

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you.

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear.

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.”

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway.

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers.

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel.

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw.

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic.

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street.

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up.

“What did you just say, Joel?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you.

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?”

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you.

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.”

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.”

“Baby–”

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud.

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention.

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?”

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue.

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?”

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore.

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin.

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?”

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid.

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel.

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle.

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides.

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos.

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you.

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side.

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?”

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face.

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–”

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions.

“Followed us?” you’re curious.

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words.

“An ex?”

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.”

“So he is dangerous?”

“No.” Only to my self-respect.

“You want me to take care of him?”

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.”

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time?

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood.

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet.

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing.

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman?

Your face wrinkles in confusion.

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number.

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.”

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod.

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.”

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does.

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave.

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress.

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?”

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes.

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.”

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard.

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin.

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you.

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically.

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks.

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse.

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer.

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?”

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away.

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts.

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t.

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead.

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder.

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you.

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation.

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath.

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t.

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap.

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself.

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head.

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works.

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more.

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.”

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you.

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men?

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt.

Oh.

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more.

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.”

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity.

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.”

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face.

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot.

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders.

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out.

“Make me yours,” you incite.

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed. He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath.

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck.

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both.

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up.

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets.

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing.

if you'd like to be on a taglist please let me know !

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #fuckboy joel #dave york #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou smut #pedro pascal smut

453 notes · View notes

taasgirl · 5 hours

Text

blame - driver!reader x grid

summary: driver!reader goes to war protecting her teammate and best friend, max verstappen.

a/n: this is NOT a romance smau!!

liked by user76, user98, and 6, 872, 014 others f1 Following a breach of conditions set by the FIA, Max Verstappen will serve a mandatory community service period.

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynusername just say ya'll can't handle him and move on!!!

user27 be careful y/n, they'll send you too user46 HAHA SHE'S SO REAL

user51 this is so stupid

user90 who decided this???

user75 Okay I understand him getting community service for the Ocon incident, but for swearing?

user21 they're treating max like he's a child

liked by oscarpiastri, redbullracing, and 2, 379, 918 others ynusername unbothered, moisturised, and definitely plotting to overthrow the fia!

tagged: maxverstappen1

user59 My dreams 5 minutes before my alarm:

user61 y/n and max are never beating the platonic soulmates allegations

user87 Get yourself a teammate that fights the FIA on your behalf @/estebanocon

maxverstappen1 I was going to say something nice then I saw the last photo.

ynusername pls still compliment me x

oscarpiastri I agree with the caption

landonorris ur too ashy to be moisturised

view ynusername's story...

caption only the FIA could ruin a beautiful flight @/alex_albon

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 1, 256, 280 others ynusername me and bro suiting up to destroy the FIA

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

lewishamilton This is why you're my favourite on the grid

ynusername this is why you're the 🐐

oscarpiastri Hey I hope you were joking when you said you'd be turning into a grid terror haha (please be joking)

ynusername don't worry ur safe xx

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS Y/N???

landonorris If me and my gang pull up ahh post

ynusername yup you're now my number one target for unironically using 'ahh'

maxverstappen1 I hope I am bro

ynusername there's no one i'd rather serve community service with

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton, and 3, 287, 3389 others ynusername don't worry I won't actually replicate crashgate. however, please know that I have free reign over my radio xx

landonorris Thank god u had me scared for a minute

user49 y/n is taking this too far 😭

ynusername oh i can go further if needed

lewishamilton HAHA this is gold y/n

ynusername when I have the praise of sir lewis hamilton then I know that I'm doing something right

user20 OMG Y/N GOING INSANE ON RADIO IS A NEEEED

user91 y/n is the only reason i'm tuning in this weekend

view ynusername's story...

caption: I have some business to attend to this sunday afternoon

liked by user62, user87, and 209, 557 others f1updates Not shy on the radio so far! Y/N on the formation lap, and she'd already quizzing her engineer.

user83 she's so unserious i love her

user90 This is my sign to strictly watch her onboard today

user41 y/n really is going to put on a show huh

liked by user 34, user75, and 1, 722, 981 others f1updates A few of the unhinged thing's Y/N was saying during today's race. Safe to say that she may be sporting a ban for the next race.

user38 her engineer replying with 'affirm' is so fucking funny to me

user92 And ya'll still wonder why she's my fave driver

user47 THE WAY THIS ISN'T EVEN EVERYTHING SHE SAID

user28 what else did she say??

user47 @/user28 she went on a whole tangent about how stroll is a prick that shouldn't be in f1 😭😭

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 3, 615, 248 others ynusername FIA knew I'd be too powerful for another race (hey at least bestie doesn't have to do community service).

maxverstappen1 You're insane I love you

ynusername dinner is still on you right?

landonorris NOOOOOO RIP Y/N

ynusername bitch i'm still alive

oscarpiastri Welcome back Kevin Magnussen liked by ynusername

redbullracing She might be crazy, but she's our kind of crazy!

ynusername pls keep me employed ya'll

view landonorris's story...

caption Yes, she still has the helmet on

view maxverstappen1's story...

caption Okay time for us to get to work

eeee i hope you guys liked this, please let me know if you did!

226 notes · View notes

slaybestieslay946 · 7 months

Note

Hey! I love ur blog and I saw ur accepting requests for luke castellan, (I’ve never requested a fic before so I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong lol)

Could I have a fic where reader comes to camp in the middle of the night after getting attacked by monster(doesn’t matter which monster) but after they’re in camp and moved into the Hermes cabin they’re distant and angry because theyre pissed off at the world and the gods. Luke being luke though doesn’t give up on trying to make the reader feel at home and tries his hardest to get them out of their shell. UNTIL reader gets claimed by Zeus and gets moved to the lonely Cabin 1 and can’t sleep so they go back to Hermes cabin and Luke lets them sleep in his bunk w him and fluffy ending of such

Damn that was a lot it’s totally ok if u don’t want to do this!

Thank you!!!

I really love this idea, and I'm so glad you love my blog! Hope you enjoy!

Mystery Girl

MASTERLIST

word count: 2700

pairing: luke castellan x zeus!reader

warnings: minor depictions of violence, readers kind of a bitch but like not really.

a/n: reader is so unbothered i kinda aspire to be her

Late at night, you stumbled through the camp's threshold, leaning on Aspen, your protector. He was equally leaning into you, and you couldn’t tell whose blood it was soaking threw your shirt, yours, or his.

You could see a few buildings at the bottom of the hill, and a few of them had lights on.

“Help, please!” You shouted, weakly raising your arm to catch some sort of attention.

Aspen did the same, his exclamations a mix of real words and pained bleats.

Eventually, people began emerging from the buildings, rubbing their eyes in exhaustion, trying to work out what was going on. You and Aspen continued to shout for help, shuffling slowly down the hill, praying that you wouldn’t bleed out before you reached the bottom.

Finally, someone seemed to realise you were in trouble, and a boy about your age began jogging up the hill towards you. His face was mostly calm, and he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, halting when he saw the blood on your clothes and the used spear in your hand.

You instinctively let go of Aspen, and rushed forward to seek help.

“Please, help me.” You pleaded desperately, losing your balance and stumbling forwards towards him.

“Alright, alright.” He said, catching you by the arm and holding you steady, before shouting down at the campers below, “These two need to get to the infirmary! Someone wake the Apollo cabin, yeah?!”

He then turned back to you, holding you steady by the arms and trying to assess the damage.

“It’s alright, yeah? You’re safe now, we just gotta get these cuts checked out, hm?”

You tried to nod, but found you couldn’t move your head, or your body. You tried to speak, tried to tell him that Aspen needed help too, but your mouth couldn’t move either.

And then your vision went black.

When you woke up, you thought you were in heaven. It smelt nice, homely. Not that you really knew that home was supposed to smell like.

It was warm too, and you felt yourself sighing contentedly. If this really was heaven, then you didn’t mind being there all that much.

After a while, you decided it was time to open your eyes, maybe go and explore the afterlife.

But when you tried to sit up, you felt a sharp jolt of pain that snapped you back to reality. You let out a small hiss in discomfort, lowering yourself back into the bed.

Slowly, the memories began to come back to you, leaving school, Aspen forcing you onto a road trip, nearly getting killed by a monster, and finally passing out on the hill of a ‘camp’.

Heaven sounded preferable.

You took in the room. It seemed like any old house, a dresser in the corner along with a wardrobe and old floral wallpaper that even covered the ceiling. Until you noticed another bed beside yours, with Aspen asleep on it, and one beside his.

You remembered the words of that boy who’d run to you, and you figured this must be the infirmary.

“Hey, Aspen.” You whispered, turning your head to the side and trying to ignore the sting of your injuries.

“Aspen!” You called again, raising your voice, but still he didn’t hear you. He must still be asleep. Lucky bastard.

You huffed, sinking fully back into the pillows and waiting for someone to arrive. Thankfully, it didn’t take long, and soon enough a young boy was coming in, holding several canisters of liquid.

“Oh, you’re awake,” He grinned, “How’s the pain?”

“Bad.” You replied, groaning at the thought.

He chuckled, “Not surprising. You got some nasty scratches from that monster. Here, drink some of this, it’ll fix you up.”

He offered one of the canisters to you, and you took it, regarding it with a certain amount of suspicion.

“What’s this?”

“Nectar. It’ll help, trust me.”

You relented, deciding that it was worth the risk if it would get rid of some of the throbbing in your back.

And he was right, almost immediately, you felt soothed, and as you drank more, you began to feel energised, like you could conquer the world.

“What did you say this was? Nectar?”

“Yep. Food of the gods.”

“Where’d you get this stuff?”

“Oh, we get shipments from Olympus every month. You won’t find that at your local grocery store.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” You held up your hands to stop him for a minute, “What do you mean Olympus?”

The boy's eyes widened, and some kind of realisation struck him.

“I don’t think I should be the one to break this to you.”

Just a few hours later, everything had been explained to you, and you were kicked out of the so-called ‘Big House’. Nice of them to do that, considering a centaur had just dropped the bombshell that you were the child of an ancient Greek god.

To be fair though, you probably should have clocked that something was up when you were being chased by a mythical beast, but then again, you did have your hands full.

Now, you were sitting on the front steps of the porch, waiting for some kid to show you round the camp.

“Hey, mystery girl! Good to see you’re feeling better.” A voice called out, and you looked up to see the very same boy who had come to your aide on the hill.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, I’m all good.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Luke.”

“Y/N.”

“Right, so, I’ll start the tour.” He declared, flashing you another bright grin which you feebly returned.

He started the tour off at the dining pavilion, then showed you the amphitheatre, then the strawberry fields, the archery range and the lake.

Finally, he introduced you to each of the cabins, skipping over the empty cabins 1, 2 and 3.

“And this,” He gestured to the eleventh cabin, “Will be where you’re staying.”

“Woah.” You said, stepping back, “What do you mean staying? I can’t stay here.”

He looked at you blankly, “You don’t really have much of a choice, mystery girl.”

“Yeah, I do. I can leave whenever I want, you can’t do anything about it.”

“You wanna get killed by a monster? Because if I remember right, you came awfully close a few days ago. That’s why you can’t leave.”

“Well I guess I’ll just have to take that chance. Appreciate the tour and everything, but I’m going.” You then turned on your heel and began to walk away.

There was no chance in hell you were staying in this camp, and if it had to be over your dead body, then so be it.

However, your desertion was halted by Luke grabbing you by the hand and pulling you back.

“I’m not kidding, Y/N. You’ll die as soon as you step past that barrier. Just,” He sighed, seemingly exasperated, “Stay for one night. It’s not that bad here once you get used to it.”

You glared up at him, weighing your options. He seemed pretty serious about this.

“And you can’t leave Aspen when he’s still in critical condition?”

That broke your resolve.

“Fine. I’ll stay until Aspen wakes up. Show me my bunk.”

He grinned, and turned back to Cabin 11, showing you inside.

Turns out, Aspen waking up wouldn’t be such a close deadline as you thought. As it turned out, he’d been hit by some kind of poisonous claw from the monster, and had been put into some kind of coma.

So now, as prior to your agreement with Luke, you were stuck here until he woke up. Which could be next week, or next year for all you knew.

And yeah, you felt bad for the guy ‘cause he was in a coma, but it was seriously messing up your plans of leaving camp.

Because you hated camp.

The Hermes cabin stunk, and it was constantly noisy. Probably because there were so many people in there all the damn time.

You also sucked at most of the stuff around camp.

You weren’t exactly nurturing, so it was a no to the infirmary and the strawberry fields. You were an awful shot, and when you had a go in the forges you dropped a mallet on your foot. You were still recovering from that one.

It seemed the only thing you were even slightly good at was fighting, mainly with the staff Aspen had lent you during the fight with the monster outside camp. Still, you weren’t great, unlike Luke who had insisted on taking you under his wing.

He sat with you at every dinner and breakfast, and always seemed to be there when you turned a corner, or found a moment of peace.

Yes, it was very kind of him to try and settle you in, but it was pretty futile, considering all you had wanted to do ever since you woke up was leave, consequences be damned.

The one saving grace to your boredom was capture the flag. Luke had told you about it on your first day, and it was a game you remembered playing as a kid, and really enjoying. Apparently they ran a game every month, and this coming Sunday would be your first time playing.

The day of the game arrived, and for the first time in your two weeks at camp, you were in a decently good mood, and of course, Luke took notice of this.

“What’s got you so happy, mystery girl?”

“Nothing. Besides, why do you keep calling me that, you know my name now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but you're just so private and mysterious. I’m surprised you even told me your name.”

“I wish I didn’t, Castellan, maybe you wouldn’t be here to bug me all the time.”

“Ouch, don’t be like that. You know I’m great company really.”

You didn’t reply to that, instead rolling your eyes at him and returning to the task of tightening your armour, struggling a bit with the straps.

Luke quickly came to your aid, much to your chagrin, helping you adjust the breastplate so it fit properly.

“Thanks.” You sighed reluctantly, quickly stepping away from him to grab your spear.

“No problem.”

Soon, the game was well underway, and you quickly realised that you had been given possibly the most boring job, that being guarding the perimeter. Not that you could really blame your team leaders, you were the newest member and logically the most inexperienced. But still, you’d been hoping for something a little more exciting.

Every now and then you heard the odd shout further on in the woods and raised your spear, but you never actually caught sight of anyone from the opposing team. Or your team for that matter.

You really had been given the short straw.

After another hour of standing there, you were about ready to quit all of this completely, throw off your armour and escape camp, agreement with Luke be damned, that was until you heard hurried footsteps, and someone panting heavily coming from behind you.

You quickly whipped around, to see a girl from the Ares cabin, holding your flag, standing about 50 feet away.

Then you heard another step of footsteps, and there was Luke, around the same distance away, holding the opposing team's flag.

You really didn’t want to be caught in the middle of something this exciting.

They both began to run towards the threshold at top speed, and you stayed standing between them, unsure of what to do. Should you step back and let Luke do his thing, or should you step in to stop the girl. She looked pretty terrifying.

You whipped your head side to side, continuing to debate, and in the midst of your dilemma, you realised the girl was much closer to you than Luke was. Fuck.

You had to stop her somehow, but you obviously could just slash blindly at her, you didn’t want to behead her.

And then, suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree, falling directly in her path, and she leapt back to avoid it, stumbling and also falling to the floor.

Luke kept running, swerving around the fallen tree and onto your team's territory, cheering as the red flag shimmered and turned blue, and the conch sounded.

You quickly ran over to the girl, clambering over the tree in an effort to help her up.

She looked up at you in shock and confusion, but her eyes seemed to be focused on the space just about your head.

“What’s wrong?”

She pointed above you, “He claimed you.” She stuttered out.

You looked to where she was pointing, and saw a lightning bolt shining above your head.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Of course you had to be Zeus’ kid. Just your luck, a forbidden child, with some stupid prophetic destiny.

If you ever met your father, you’d be sure to give him an earful about his part in your conception.

Almost immediately after capture the flag, you were announced to the camp by Chiron, and then promptly herded into the empty cabin 1.

And you never thought you’d say it, but you missed cabin 11. Sure, it was a mess, and the kids in there didn’t know how to shut up, but at least it had some semblance of life, unlike your new home. It was barren, and empty, and you hated it.

It was even worse now that you had your own permanent bed. Before you’d had at least a pipedream of leaving camp and going off on your own again, but now that was entirely gone. Chiron would never let you out of his sight ever again, not now that you were a child of the ‘Big Three’. You were so screwed.

You tossed and turned for hours in bed, unable to sleep in the unfamiliar environment, and, strangely, uncomfortable with the crushing loneliness you felt.

You’d never felt lonely before. Your whole life, you’d been pretty much alone, but that was by choice. This time it was by force, and you felt isolated from everyone else at camp. Suddenly you regretted your refusal to make friends.

So, your feet naturally carried you to the only person you could kind of call a friend, and you weren’t surprised when you landed outside Luke Castellan’s window.

You gave it a light tap, and he opened his eyes, giving you a sad smile as he saw your face through the window. It looked like he hadn’t slept at all either.

“Can I come in?” You mouthed through the window, and he quickly nodded, reaching up to open it and let you in.

“Thanks,” You whispered, stepping down onto the hardwood floor.

“No problem. Having trouble sleeping?” He asked, patting the spot beside him. You gladly sat down.

“Uh, yeah. It’s really empty there.”

“Hm, sure is. You sure you didn’t just miss me too much?”

“Maybe I did Castellan.” You declared, shrugging your shoulders as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to say.

“I’m sorry though, Luke. I’ve been kind of an asshole ever since I got here.” You said, looking down at your muddy shoes.

“Hey, I get it. It’s an adjustment, that’s for sure. I’ve dealt with worse from newcomers.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Anytime.”

You both fell silent for a moment, listening to the snores of the kids around you before he piped up again.

“Hey, I don’t mind you staying here tonight if you want?” He said, his voice slightly awkward. You paid it no mind.

“I’d like that.”

He moved to the other side of the bed as you removed your shoes, rolling onto the bed beside him.

You were both silent again for a while, until Luke’s voice yet again came from beside you.

“I’m gonna have to come up with a new name for you now, huh?”

“What, I’m not mysterious anymore?” You asked, feigning offence.

“Not now that we’re best buddies. I’m thinking… Sparky!”

“That is god awful.”

“Exactly.”

You snickered under your breath at his idiotic sense of humour, and allowed yourself to sink into the bed beside him.

And for the first time, you didn’t want to leave.

#fanfic #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #writing #pjo #luke castellan #fluff #x reader

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hypnoneghoul · 4 months

Text

Sundown: Chapter 6

WC: 1,1K

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain,Transfeminine Mountain, Angst, Lies, Identity Reveal, Heartbreak, Hurt no Comfort (in this chapter)

“No,” Mounty gasps, finally realizing. He scared her. “Swiss, no, that’s not–it can’t be–”

Read chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 6 under the cut or on AO3.

It took five months for Swiss’ past to catch up to him.

He knew it would—sooner rather than later, knowing his luck—but he really thought he would have more time to…come up with a plan. Anything, he would do anything to avoid more heartbreak, he had promised himself. And yet he failed at a simple task of being honest.

Life just never seems to have any mercy in store for him, so why would he even have hope?

It’s a busy evening in Mounty’s bar; it’s warm—the most important reason—but the word cozy also comes to mind. Even despite the spiderwebs, broken furniture and a distant smell of rotten wood. There are flowers, though, all year long, so very clearly Mounty’s touch. It’s her home and she loves it as it is—which makes Swiss love it, too—and such an atmosphere is inviting.

The cowboy is, as usual, hanging out by the bar, watching his girl work. She’s happy, he’s happy and it’s all good, until he hears a name he has been praying for months not to hear ever again.

“He ain’t so scary anymore!” a man from the other side of the bar laughs, and the people surrounding him follow. “He was a cunt, no idea where he got all that reputation from. The mighty Shadow nearly pissed himself!”

Another wave of booming laughter sounds and it hurts Swiss’ eardrums. He tenses, hands going clammy around the glass he’s holding, and listens in, despite his better judgment.

“He’s been hiding like a coward for months after that one failed heist, from what I’ve heard,” the man continues. “Snatched a chance when he peaked his ugly head out and now the bitch is done!”

Swiss’ blood boils and freezes in his veins at the same time. Mounty doesn’t notice; she’s too busy, and the man is grateful. The stranger in the corner keeps laughing with his companions as he insults the infamous Shadow and gloats about something he most definitely didn’t do.

Of course he didn’t.

Swiss doesn’t know what makes him snap. He only notices that he stood up when he feels the pulse of a man he’s holding against the wall by his neck under his hand.

“Swiss!” he hears Mounty call from behind the bar. The whole place is so quiet all of a sudden. “Let him go!”

The cowboy chokes the stranger slowly for a bit longer, staring into his terrified eyes. If he…if he actually were to finish off the Shadow, he would be the one to piss himself. He is about to prove it.

“You’re the cunt here,” he mutters before letting go.

Swiss storms off without sparing a glance in anyone’s direction again, not even Mounty. He all but runs out of the saloon and behind it, into the cold and dark where he sits on the wet ground and hangs his head. His eyes sting and he wants to just cry, but he can’t. He ran out of tears a long time ago.

He hears the squeak of the saloon’s batwing door and the shuffle of its additional covering that they have put on for the cold nights and he prays to anyone who’s willing to listen that it’s not–

“Swiss, darling,” Mounty whispers and the tone of it the–the fear in it breaks the man’s heart in half. He scared her.

He scared her.

He doesn’t reply, he can’t speak; it’s like there’s something lodged in his throat. Shame, most likely.

Despite her visible apprehension, the barmaid comes closer. She crouches by Swiss and just…waits. She waits for whatever may happen and she looks determined to do so for however long it may take.

He scared her.

Swiss simply breathes for a while before he dares to open his mouth again, “The–the Shadow. What do you know about…him?”

“Just the rumors,” Mounty shrugs, doing her very best to seem unbothered; casual about the whole ordeal, “but I don’t think I’d like to meet him. That won’t be a problem, though, ‘cause apparently he’s dead. Nobody’s seen him or heard of him for months and that man that you just…”

“He’s not dead,” Swiss interrupts—too sharp, too loud. He immediately hates himself for it, even more than he already did.

He scared her.

“How do you know?” she asks, much quieter.

The man swallows audibly against that mysterious something that’s suffocating him, “How many months do you think it’s been since…since he was last seen?”

“Hm…” The barmaid thinks for a moment, counting silently. “Something like five, probably.

Swiss chuckles sadly, locking his eyes on Mounty’s. He doesn’t speak—doesn’t explain—but he doesn’t need to. She’s a smart girl, and the sorrow, regret and shame in Swiss’ eyes are speaking louder and clearer than he ever could.

“No,” Mounty gasps, finally realizing.

He scared her.

“Swiss, no, that’s not–it can’t be–”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” is all he can say. He should have so much more to say, beg for forgiveness, but he can’t. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, that this is simply too big.

He gives up.

Mounty’s thoughts are racing, her breathing picks up, and her eyes widen. She’s an image of pure horror as she connects more and more dots. Swiss feels like throwing up.

“I’ve been…for months I’ve been dating–I’ve been sleeping with the world’s most famous criminal, I’ve–I’ve been…” she rambles, more to herself than the man. His whole body hurts. “I’m–I’m in love with the world’s most famous murderer.”

He scared her.

“Sweetheart, please, just–just hear me out, gimme a chance to explain before…” before he leaves, he wanted to say, because there is nothing else that can be done. He has to get the fuck out and away from her, from the most precious creature on the entire planet. One that he stained with his touch, with his lies. No hands that have so much blood on them should ever be allowed to touch something as pure as Mounty.

Thankfully, she doesn’t let him finish, “Explain what? That you lied to me and put on a whole ass fake personality to just…to just what, exactly?”

“It’s not like that, I just–” Swiss tires, but he’s not sure what it is that he’s trying to do. “I was running away! The Shadow…me, I–it’s not me, Mounty, please, let me–”

He scared her.

“Maybe I will,” she spits. “But certainly not now.”

“Momo, please,” the man falters and he’s about to fall to his knees and grab onto the barmaid’s feet and beg when she moves away. “Please, don’t be scared of me.”

“Too late, Shadow.” Mounty leaves him there, out in the cold darkness.

And Swiss finally cries.

#dont crucify me #pls #hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #swissalps' sundown

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mindstriker · 5 months

Text

We back out the trenches with this one folks: Someone sent me the "fallout companions' alcohol tolerances" post and I immediately decided I had to make one about the Think Tank in turn. So, here we bloody go:

Dr. Mobius: 9/10. Mobius could tank a solid 3/4ths of a bottle of vodka, perch himself in front of a chalkboard for a few hours straight swaying back and forth slowly and still wind up inventing a new formula for rocket fuel. He is unbothered. Unphased. In his element. Years of horkin' down Mentats like they were going out have style have numbed his entire nervous system to the influence of lesser chems like booze. He's got the Logan's Loophole perk equipped somehow.

Dr. Klein: 8/10 Listen he's got wine bottles and a full bar in his home I bet this man is a frequent flier- but that doesn't spare him from getting like miserably drunk off a bottle of wine and lying in his bathtub scrubs and all contemplating his seething hatred for his many neurotic coworkers. Not only is Klein a mean drunk, but he's a miserable one, too. He'll crab and bitch at anyone that dares to encroach upon him whilst smashed, and all at top fucking volume too. Thankfully, I feel like he stays cloistered in his office or in his Higgs home on the days he spends day-drinking.

Dr. Dala: 4/10 Listen, she's decent- mildly less so than 8, but not bad either- not like 0. I feel like she gets incredibly talkative when she drinks and enjoys telling stories or recounting her latest research- you just get hit with like a laser-beam of oddly loving recountments of the latest liver she's pried out of a war criminal or other some such information. Don't put her and Klein in the same room if both are drunk, she's such a generally personable drunk that his attitude alone would sour her night.

Dr. 0: 2/10 I CANNOT see him having any decent tolerance towards booze at all I'm gonna be so real with you I think he'd down a few espresso martinis in an attempt to combine the coffee he likely chugs 24/7 with alcohol and then spend the rest of the night vaguely weepy, incoherent, fumbling around and generally white girl wasted. He'd somehow end up IN Dr. Borous' backyard in Higgs in an attempt to weep openly into Gabe's fur and wind up with like 3 dog bites because of it.

Dr. Borous: -1/10 Listen how much alcohol he's CAPABLE of tolerating is irrelevant, if you offer this man a drink not only will he turn you down but he'll go on a verbal tirade about how he never tolerates the evils of alcohol because one time in American High RICHIE MARCUS dared to invite nearly EVERYONE in his class to an ALCOHOL party except for him and now he refuses it out of sheer PRINCIPLE. Bonus points if he somehow, some way brings Communism into it.

Dr. 8: 5/10 I feel like he just has the most normal man alcohol threshold known to man. I also hate to say it but I FEEL like he'd be a horny drunk. I'm sorry. I don't like that fact any more than you do but my brain contemplated it and so I must share.

#fallout new vegas #fonv #fnv #think tank #old world blues #dr klein #my friend told me to tag him specifically #fallout

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kanmom51 · 1 year

Text

JK Radio Stationhead 1 October 2023

And a little more as well...

cr./and huge thanks to the translation accounts I used in this post.

I think this was the most interesting Stationhead we've had so far with JK. JK was chatty, informative (well, to an extent), I would maybe even say combative? Maybe that's a little too strong a term to use, but I do think he came to show that he is unbothered by the shitstorm going on and clap back just a little bit. And he knows about that shitstorm, make no mistake.

I see Jikookers falling for this hateful campaign against JK. Not only are they perpetuating it, but they are also adding to it, embellishing it, and spreading it.

By now JK has had several girlfriends named, he's a baby daddy (she was pregnant in Feb, so...), he's going on double dates with his mate Tae, trucking (censorship issues had me change that - you know exactly what it's meant to be) her with the windows and curtains open for all to see (after telling us he's aware he's being followed around including home). All this he managed to get done before he sat down and did hours on end of JM dedicated lives, calling him his fan, flirting with him online while in bed for all of us to see, and going on a 4 day private trip with him.

A very wise blogger once said: (@ourwinterspring, hope you don't mind me quoting your wise words):

Rumors are created by haters accepted by fools and spread by idiots

That. Just that!!!

People that called themselves Jikook supporters (I'm not talking about shippers, they are in this for their own self gratification, while supporters are supposed to be looking out for JM and JK and supporting them both individually and their relationship, which btw is still considered tabooed in their own country), they are rushing to conclusions, and aiding in the spread of these lies.

K-army laughed them off.

Chinese army are fighting them off.

And I army are just spreading them like wildfire.

Why this long winded introduction?

Because Jikook are in an impossible position really. They are a closeted queer couple in a country and industry that would not accept their relationship if it would become publicly known. As long as the door is open for deniability they are ok. Taking that step through that door and out of the closet, that is one hell of a step with many consequences, to them and to those who surround them.

JK is about to release his 1st solo album, and he's in the midst of trying to infiltrate the American and Western music market. To do so they are selling a very certain image, and being queer is not part of it.

They are also both before enlistment to the military.

Them going: "hey bitches, the stories are untrue, we're in a long term loving relationship", is not a realistic expectation. And no matter what JK would say otherwise, the rumours they are just gonna keep coming, cause this train, this coordinated smear attack, it's not finished. And if and when that would be done, we'd be back to Yubi and Rose and Lisa (oh, oops, she's with Freddie), and Miju. Ehm, she's married. But wait, since when has that stopped anyone, eh? It didn't stop the Nicole stories, which, btw, are still rampant, including among some Jikookers (?) - what the actual truck is wrong with people???

So, no Jikook announcement.

A company one? Kind of feel that one won't come either. Again, JK 3D promotions and upcoming album in mind. Not to mention, and this my friends is me being super cynical right now, other than the harassment claims, the company doesn't have a problem with these rumours, given it solidifies his bad boy, truckboy, heterosexual image they are selling right now. There, I said it.

But Jikook, JM and JK, they aren't happy with this. They can't be happy with this. As much as this image is a price to pay, on the way JK is sending us constant hints that it ain't all that you see. That he's a complex being. That he might appear one way in 3D, but another in Seven and another in his CK and Vogue photoshoots (the latter with him being the artistic designer and bringing along some outfits and/or accessories that he wanted himself), not to mention someone else all together in his long lives with us. He tells us this is him. Who we see. But those that only see that image in 3D are just not looking at the full picture he's painting.

This is him:

But also this:

And this:

They are all pieces of the puzzle that is one Mr. Jeon Jungkook. And I'm sure there are pieces we have yet to see.

It's funny that JK is singing 3D (basically having phone sex and wishing for more) but at the same time he's telling us "this is me in 3D". Not one dimensional. A complex grown up human being.

Btw, I kind of feel like I need to link this post again, seeing that so many are still thinking that having muscles, tattoos and piercings makes you heterosexual or at least bi. Cause, I mean, you must be sexually attracted to women if you are super masculine, and get tattoos or pierce your body, right?

Oh boy, this is a long one. I haven't even started with Stationhead, lol.

So, JK is trying to show us he's a complex human being. This is him. Not one MV or song he chose to sing. The full picture. The shoots he chooses, the concepts for his songs (do I have to remind of his Seven concept shoot?), his lives, what he shared with us (as in past tense cause Idk how much more he will with everything that's going on).

And in the midst of this, knowing you are in a committed relationship, having your integrity, your good name smeared, being with the person you love and knowing that the world not only doesn't see how dear you are to each other but also thinks you're being sexually intimate with multiple others. Not to mention, having to deal at this young age with the knowledge that there are people out there that hate you enough to want to hurt you on such a level, to ruin your good name, your career. It can be paralyzing. And they put on a brave face. JK says he knows people hate him and good for them, he'll continue to live his life. But it's hard, it's hurtful, and these two, they are the kindest sweetest people out there, they don't deserve this.

OMG, when will I finally get to the point?

I think about now would be a good time.

So, no speaking up. No announcement. But at the same time they don't want to just sit there and take it.

Phew, here we go?

JK came today, 1st October (or more so 1st Jimtober) to Stationhead after his 3D dance practice video landed (same day).

And by some strange coincidence (no coincidence at all), JM released his second #ThisisJimin dance clip to Dominic Fike's Phone Numbers with these lyrics, coincidentally:

Woah, Kenny! Why you not here with me? Can you break bread with me? Why you switch phone numbers like clothes? Why you can't answer me? (Yeah) 'Cause I got more coming

(Not a love song)

Using a prop. Wait for it...

Oh, and the outfits that happen to be kind of similar and sticking to the black and white.

I feel like I'm repeating myself here, but you know, sometimes you need to in order to hammer the message in.

And JK, well he also posted a selfie on Weverse (while on Stationhead).

1st Jimtober with his fave Jack Skellington.

So yeah. The little things. Those little codes that say "we are here, we are ok, all is well, this will definitely not break us."

Yes. I get all of that from those little things, lol.

But, it didn't end with that.

And here we are.

Finally at the precipice.

Well, not precipice per say. That's being a little dramatic. But I am finally going to get to JK on Stationhead, as in what we got from him during the show.

I guess with this long introduction I should start with the Jikook related, right?

Let's start with JK repeating the endearment JM used in his IG post for 3D.

And then JK basically confirmed that he and JM were together when drawing the cloud whale drawing JM shared with us on IG telling us JK drew it.

Making sure we know that they drew the whale together.

You don't have to understand Korean to hear the amusement in his voice. We don't know when this was taken (CT or perhaps more recently... although my initial thought was CT I'm kind of leaning to it being more recent, like very recent), but we know they were together. We thought so and now JK confirmed it.

Enjoyed confirming it.

He also brought up JM's birthday being this month. Yes, he could be reacting to comments, but we've discussed this multiple times in the past. You know. Choices. And in this case, his choice which ones to answer, right?

Once again, it's all in the way it's all being said. The "I know something you don't" tone of voice. The "a-ha, yeah, Uhah" while supposedly looking up if he's doing something on the day. The "I'm going to be busy...I see I have a schedule..?" ending with a question mark? As in "do I really?" Lol.

The way he was talking, the man has something planned. I really don't want to have any expectations here. But man, he's making it hard for me not to have them. Lmao.

And another JM related comment he chooses to answer:

This time you don't get the sassiness or teasing in his voice like we did with the JM birthday answer. Idk why they aren't doing each other's challenges. It's for them to know. We know JK was showing/teaching JM Seven moves. We know that JK knew SMF pt. 2 moves. I guess it's something they just decided between them. Or perhaps schedules didn't and aren't aligning. Who knows. And who knows, we might just get a surprise. Next phone song JM does could be 3D, lol.

Ok, so he saw his parents. He goes on to also talk about his mother's cooking (oh, that man is so in trouble with his mom calling her cooking bland, lmao). Kind of gathering from it all that JK was in Busan for the holiday. Could that photo JM shared, you know, the one JK made sure we know they both drew the whale on, have been taken when they were both down in Busan for the holiday? I wonder...

This here is, I feel, JK clapping back a little at the haters. But also telling us, once again, that he's an adult and does adult things. Knows how to work hard when needed, and when to "play hard", as in relax and have a good time, when allowed.

This one isn't about Jikook (well in a sense maybe it is, as it's about shooting down TKKs hopes and prayers, lol). JK clarifying Tae's story about him recording a song at JK's place and JK directing him.

So, no pre-planning, JK's reply "and I was like "suddenly"? And also letting us know Tae didn't record the final at his place. Burn, lol. Also answers (again - like in the Inkigayo live) a question about karaoke with Tae. More or less same answer. More or less "that's a no"?

And this I already shared with you guys:

This is basically JK. Again, when he says I'm showing you my true self. It's not the image of the hunky guy with the sexy expressions doing that sexy choreography with the female dancers hands on him. Well not only. It's the shy introvert that feels awkward when these women are touching him. And just to be clear here. This isn't me saying anything about his sexuality. But it's definitley me saying he is not this careless truckboy people are so badly wanting him to be. Being an adult and having sex (let's call it rex from now on), a lot of it, enjoying it, doesn't make it the core of who you are as a person, doesn't mean you are having rex with multiple people for the only pursual of physical gratification nor does it mean that the rex you are having is necessarily with a female even if you are singing a song saying girl in it, to which the lyrics were not written by yourself. JK also sang a song about having rex 7 days a week, but with that one person, in his words, wanting to be all the time with "the love of my life". See, that was a little slip of the tongue by him, lol. But very revealing. Thank you ever so much for that one JK.

Do you understand the difference here?

One being lyrics to a song he's performing, him being a singer. Lyrics he didn't write himself.

The other is his explanation, his take on the meaning of the song he is singing (also not written by him). Inserting that little very personal touch.

Do we get it? JK isn't the lyrics, the lyrics aren't JK.

Oh, and by the by, JK's lyrics aren't referencing multiple partners. If we are being all about "but he's singing it, so it must be who he is". The multiple partners, the truckboy image, that's Jack Harlow's bit. JK is still talking to one person.

But again, I stress, the song doesn't represent JK as a person or his character. And those that are making that leap are simply...

Moving on.

JK's asked which he prefers more? 7 or 3D. Very diplomatically makes sure we know that at the time he liked Seven and now it's leaning more towards 3D. Well duh, this is him promoting it. Then he combines the two to 7D.

"What's your favourite part of 3D?" Him asking the listeners.

JK talked about eating chicken, being busy practicing all the time (I am curious to know what for), finishing up and going home to workout, shower and sleep.

He also talked about GCF and his appreciation for Army.

Asked about music or variety show, and the answer is probably not, it's hard for him (this is where the shy introvert part of him wins, I guess). It's easier to be alone on a stage in front of thousands performing than have to interact one on one with people that you aren't as familiar or comfortable with. On stage you go after much practice. Small talk and interviews and socializing means having to be focused (neuro divergent prince here) and it's so so hard for a shy introvert to deal with. Key word ALONE.

Although he's asked about further plans he's adamant not to give spoilers (well, more so afraid he'll be told off by the company, lol).

He misses the old days I guess. Of Kakao Fancafe. The intimacy of it. The safety of it perhaps.

He also wants to cook for army.

I feel like him telling us he is pulling back on the lives, allowing for the mystery, well he's also missing those lives. He needs that connection with his fans. Maybe even more so with this path he's going down, disconnecting from the idol and becoming the mega star. He needs that emotional connection with his fans. But at the same time, a more intimate setting, where he can really connect with them, is something he prefers.

And again, the connection with Army.

About the members:

F u c k , this is getting way too long. I can't talk about it all. I will add a couple more things and leave it at that. My apologies.

So, this is another clap back from JK:

Oh, and this was curious.

Ooh, one last thing.

He finally tells us where he got the scar on his shoulder from. Well, not too glamorous, lol. He slipped and fell while running in the car park shooting the CK ad. Hurt his finger as well, but that has healed already by now.

JK ending with:

Funny how the little things just added up. All very little perhaps inconsequential actions as of themselves, but add them together and you get a message.

One you will see if only you wish to.

Oh, and end comment. This is utterly disgusting and childish and I'm at a total loss for words here.

We have 2 more of these coming, if I'm not mistaken. Will be interesting to see what we get next.

#Jungkook #JK #JK 3D #JK stationhead #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jimin #JM

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isa-ghost · 8 months

Note

you have eggza headcanons perhaps? 👉👈

I will take any headcanons of course, I love your headcanon posts

Previous Sets:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

Set 4

Set 5

Set 6

MORE: Eggza Edition

Starting with two I made in previous sets:

When left to his own devices & off-duty as dad + not needed by any of the islanders for something serious, he let's loose. No more wise bad bitch crow man who's palpably emotionally damaged yet won't admit it. He's off the shits. You've seen Eggza. That's him de-stressing by fully indulging his favorite things: preparing necessities for survival & being an absolute wildcard.

When he heard someone on the island made up a rumor that Eggza is legit because Phil taste-tested a cookie out of curiosity, he took that and RAN. Yeah. He's egg sometimes. Who's his parent you ask? Well that's a secret (it's Rose).

Remember how I said he commits to bits super hard? Yeah. Eggza is his second biggest bit after the 4th Wall existentialism but it's quickly surpassing it to his biggest one

Genuinely he enjoys his Eggza time. Everyone knows they'll get nothing but task help out of him more or less, so they more or less leave him alone unless it's to say hi or a chance encounter.

Everyone finds him speaking with signs funny and endearing. Except Tubbo. But that's understandable, dyslexia go brr. Even though the fool sometimes forgets he can tts the signs. It's fine, he's most likely to derail Eggza's cookie grinding so it's better if Tubbo stays away doing Tubbo things

He's torn between the kids witnessing Eggza & never witnessing Eggza. He can't tell what's funnier or if he'd be embarrassed. They've heard stories from other eggs though

He has no interest in making himself Look like an egg. The sign usage is all he needs. And its funnier when you approach your grown ass man best friend Philza Minecraft only for him to look as wild as he did during Purgatory but without the Looks Like He's Dying Slowly part & refuse to talk to you verbally. The "what the fuck is happening here" is the best part of Eggza, if he starts LOOKING like an egg everyone will understand what's going on and that's lame

He bounces off everyone's energy. The more unhinged they are, the more unhinged he is. Unless he's harassing the baker. Then he fuels his own fuckery

The funny thing is he makes sure everyone thinks he's constantly this wild gremlin that only knows one thing: Grind. But really if no one's around while he's grinding, he's actually just straight up vibing. Got headphones in, blasting his jams, doin his work. In his lane, unbothered, flourishing.

I would sell my soul to see Eggza beat the ever-loving shit out of Purgatory workers it'd be so fucking funny holy shit

One of his favorite parts of going Eggza Mode is amusing his friends with the way he's just a nonverbal weirdo. Especially when he answers something they say by just dancing

If He's An Extra Silly Gremlin They'll Give Him Avocado Toast As A Treat

No one knows where he shoos his crows off to when he's Eggza. Or if it's some unspoken "ok time to scatter" rule as soon as he puts the gas mask on by the bakery. But they disperse and for a while, the other islanders can't shake the feeling of Phil seeming strangely bare for some reason. It's bc the murder is away

Tbh I bet even without the Hardcore dreams, he'd sleep a long time with how hard he works as Eggza

"Hard work," I say, as if most of the time Phil isn't just making mobs insatiable amounts of horny so everyone can give the baker what they're asking for (the awareness of this is half of why he's so unhinged as Eggza, it's too absurd & funny to him)

Calling back to another prev non-Eggza hc I made, he has less of a filter when he's not parenting or in peril. He has said some absolutely wild out of pocket shit on signs

If given the right kind of motivation, an islander could probably get Eggza to go feral and kill something or someone. Fit tosses him a stack of whatever arbitrary item Phil might find enticing enough atm & Phil is suddenly on a spree like he was with those bunnies that one time

#qsmp #qsmp philza #q!philza #philza #qphil headcanons #eggza

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blackdragoness · 2 years

Text

⛽GASING YOU UP, BABY⛽

YALL NOT READY FOR ALL DIS' GASSSSS. Lemme gasssss yo lil fat head up, okayyyy. This PICK-A-PILE is for you!

"somebody call 911, shawty fiyah burnin' on da dance floor." -sean kingston

Pile 1 -

Pile 2 -

Pile 3 -

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Pile 1: Show Stunnah 🌻

Overall Tarot Card: The Devil 😈

Channelled Song: Pretty Girl Rock by Keri Hilson

⛽ The gasssss on you is....⛽

🚨🚨ALARMS GOING OFF. YOU SHUTTING THIS SHIT DOWNNNN. LESSSGOOOO 🚨🚨

First of all, you muthafucka's is FINE as hell! I'm talking about FOIIINNEEEE as hell. Body on fleek, face card never declines. As soon as you walk into the room, all eyes are on you and all your competition starts to die a little inside 😂 You are the talk of the town, the talk of every circle, babbyyy 🤤 But y'all been knew dat, 😏

"BEEN that bitch, still that bitch" - Megan The Stallion

Natural beauty with the confidence to match

Confidence of a lion(ess)

Honestly, physically, you got it muthafuckin' going on dawg, what the fuckkkkk. Out of all the piles, this one wins in the Looks Department LOL sorry to the other piles

I'm seeing a face that is so fucking beautiful and angelic. Forever youthful.

Your beauty never dies and it never ages.

I have this huge urge to gasp in awe! You make people gasp with your beauty, ermagerrrdddd this is too cute! I feel like I'm melting in your presence 🫠. It's like everytime people see you in person, you take their breathe away and all they can do is gasp in awe at your undeniable beauty 😂😂😂 it's so fucking corny bro, but damn. That was a channelled message for someone's fine ass out there. You got it like that Mami/Papi, *snap snap snap*

A literal fucking goddess/god. Like you make men want to turn all romantic and old school, writing poems and singing outside your window in the middle of a full moon & shiiit. Or for my men, you make a girl wanna break all her rules and go buck wild for you!!! Like this shit crazzzyyy!! But this is what you be doing to these people lmaoooo!

I'm sure you're a great person on the inside and all, but there is so much emphasis on your physique that I apologize if you feel exploited right now 😂😂 and tbh, you might know the effects your body causes on people so you might be a person with strong boundaries. But damn Papi, what dat body do? 😏

With the devil card crowning your reading, people are OBSESSED WITH YOU!!! Bitch, who tf are you? Why is everyone so fucking obsessed with yo ass!? Lmao

"I can do bad all by myself." You're very independent but you may have many friends too.

Imma just say it flat out: YOU GOT THAT GOOD WAP BABYYYYYY. THAT GOOD WOOD, ya know what I'm sayin' 😂 rumor has it, you can fucking werkkkk it. You got people THIRSTY AF out here, mayneee. Chilllllllll.

You got this hella chill vibe to you though. Like laid-back. Relaxed. Not about the shits or the drama. People can try to ruffle your feathers to get any type of reaction out of you but you stay unbothered AF and that's what draws them nearer to you.

You have a gift for social interactions. Most people have social anxiety but you maneuver and work the room with ease and calmness. It's very admirable.

So many people want to marry you dude, I'm not even kidding. But I'm sensing that you are just focused on yourself and your goals. Relationship isn't a priority in your life right now. But that also is what turns the thirst factor UP when it comes to you.

SEXY, SEXY, SEXY, SEXY, SEXXXXX-Y.

Rich girl, city girl, material gworl vibes

"You always got dem eyes on you" - people love to watch you and stare at you. Sometimes people zone out in conversation with you because your beauty distracts them 😂 you could be talking to them in perfect pronunciation and speed but they won't hear a damn thing you said lol I guess your beauty is deafening too 😂

As beautiful and as sexy as you are, you also have a tender kindness when you interact with anybody. Your beauty shines both inside and out and that's why you are the mf GOAT.

You turn heads every where you go. You got bitches jealous wishing they was you. Ermahgerrrddd, I'm getting a rush of energy from tons of people who fantasize about what it would be like if they had your life. Honestly, that sounds like I'm over hyping y'all, but it's the truth lol. Maybe knowing this information will help you see the beauty of your own life and appreciate it for what it is. Because from folks looking on the outside into your life, they would literally trade spots with you in a heartbeat. Heck, they are already doing it in their daydreams. Recognize that YOU ARE THAT BITCH.

You may come from a great family life. Or people think you come from a super good looking family judging based off of your looks alone lol

A lot of people want to be tied to you in some way. People feel that being connected to you gives them "brownie points" in popularity 😂😂 some people may try to befriend you for clout. I'm not even getting social media vibes, although y'all may be big on social media too. But I'm sensing like real life clout, which is ten times better than social media clout, ya feel me. It's almost like knowing you in real life makes people feel more important in real life.

Y'all are the IT GIRL/ IT BOY. Everyone wanna be you, do the things you do, talk like you, walk like you, fucking everyfannnggg!!! I cannot with y'all. You guys are unreal but thats why we are so fucking obsessed with you, booo. Keep doing you and keep being you 🌻

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Pile 2 - Cutie Pie 🥧

Overall Tarot Card: Ace of Cups

Channelled Song: My Bestie by Lloyd ft Sevyn

⛽ The gasssss on you is.....⛽

🍯🍯CUTENESS OVERLOAD!!!!!!! YOU ARE THE CUTEST FUCKING THING EVER 🍯🍯

Everyone wants to hug you, squeeze you, love on you. Stick you in their pocket and take you home. This vibe is so mushy and gooey!

Everybody's little sister. You provoke a very protective spirit in those around you and those close to you. You are looked at as something that needs to be protected at all costs.

I dunno what it is about you but people will go to bat for you no matter the situation or the time. If ever you are in trouble, you have a whole gang of people who you can count on to drop what they are doing and prioritize you. Even if they are pissed off at you, they would lay their differences to the side and come to your rescue.

You make people feel very emotional when it comes to even just the thought of you. You are so special to people I don't think you realize that!

You are that person in people's lives that they cannot imagine ever losing. Like an angel in disguise who needs to be protected from this cruel world.

You attract friends like flies!!!!! This pile is SOOOOOOO popular and you don't even have to try. You could actually be a more introverted and reserved person but constantly have a crowd of people with you.

Sooooo warm and soft. Feels like I'm sinking in an ocean of really warm honey. That's how you make people feel.

People LOVE hugging you, cuddling you, and feeling you. Your presence is very calming and motherly.

You have great motherly instincts and people trust you with their children and animals. Kids might naturally flock to you and easily trust you because of your kind nature.

You may only consider a small group of people as friends but there are so many people who consider you as one of their best friends. You may make some friends jealous because they envisioned some type of exclusive friendship with you. However, a lot of people need you in their life and so that's something they need to come to terms with.

A lot of people feel like they can confide in you with confidential matters, knowing it will be kept safe. You also give really great advice that helps people progress further on their life path.

You are a very necessary presence in many peoples life stories. If every human soul had a book about their life, there would be at least one chapter about you in multiple life books. While most people are only focused on writing their own book, they are scarcely mentioned in other stories. But you, you are very necessary in the development of other people's life journeys. Like you make an impact on their story for the better. Wowwwww. I can only imagine that this role comes with a lot of positive karma for you and your generations to come.

You beautify every place you enter, every floor you walk on, and every person you meet. You are a contagious ray of light that shines everywhere you go even in the darkest of places.

You very rarely compete or get jealous of people and that's why many consider you to be their best friend. They feel completely free to be themselves around you with no judgement, guilt or shame.

You are unapologetically yourself and it's a big turn on for the opposite sex.

Many people wish they could possess your unapologetic nature but they are realizing it is a lot harder to mimic than they thought.

"I walk like this cuz I can back it up. I got a big ego" -Beyonce

You been through a lot and it shows through how sweet and caring you are. And because you put out that energy, people wanna love you the same way in return.

You really tug at people's heart strings when they think of you. I'm hearing "a heart of gold and titanium". So valuable and indestructible.

You have been placed on this throne by a lot of people. Very very respected and admired. I'm hearing you proved yourself. Your true colors shown and they worked in your favor.

An example for others to follow

A true royal

SELF-CONTROL, SELF-CONTROL, SELF-CONTROL. You have so much self control and people are both envious and admiring that trait of yours. "The one with the most control over themselves is the one with the most power in the room."

You might be a very adaptable person. You literally can chop it up with anybody you want! No personality is too hard for you to adapt to.

You have such a knack for resolving conflict. You can de-escalate any situation with your soft spoken voice and level-headedness. Things always run smoother when you are around.

People take you seriously and really listen when you speak. You may not vocalize your opinions as often as others, but when you finally do, it shocks people, so they listen.

A deep well of wisdom.

Honorable. Highly respected. Highly trusted.

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Pile 3 - LEGEND ⚜️

Overall Tarot Card: 8 of Pentacles

Channelled Song: One Call Away by Bina Butta

⛽ The gasssss on you is.....⛽

🥶🥶 YOU OUT HERE GIVING US THE SHIVERS WITH YO ICY FINE ASS 🥶🥶

BOSS BITCHHHHH. I see you focused on that bag and getting that bag!!! If you chose this pile, YOU LOOK LIKE MONEY, HUNNY 🤑

"came through drippin *drip drip*"

You are a hard ass worker. I'm getting strong energy coming from the workplace you work at. You got a lot of people dumbfounded at your work ethic. For some reason, I'm getting that they didn't think you were going to be the type of worker that you are.

You may be known as someone who bosses up every time you experience a hardship in life. It's actually pretty phenomenal to watch.

Phoenix rising from the ashes.

You are that one character in a movie story that never dies 😂 it's like no matter how many battles you fight, you never fucking die lol it's annoying to your haters but so inspiring to those who witness this inner strength of yours.

You are a LEGEND! Some people think that your life experiences are too good to be true. But they just ain't ever met nobody like you before thats why. I'm hearing that behind your back people try to investigate the validity of your story just to be humbled when they find witnesses who retell the same story.

People want to know the depths of your life experience. I'm getting that people view you kind of like Indiana Jones who is well travelled with many stories and adventures to tell for many days.

You inspire people to think outside of the box. To want more for themselves and be open to newer opportunities that can make them feel free and alive again. You make them want to explore life again.

You walk around like a large ball of life force energy. Anything within a 5 foot radius of you starts to be influenced by your vibration.

A lot of people speak about you!!! A lot of people have your name in their mouth. It's very positive though. I'm hearing a lot of praise, chanting your name. Celebrating you!

I sense you might be hermit mode or really just focusing on yourself. People can see the changes that are happening through your physical appearance . Your hardwork and focus shines through your countenance.

You have a lot more people who support and love you. Im feeling that for this pile, the support isn't as apparent as it was for Group 2. I'm feeling like this pile stands alone with lots of silent supporters. Something about you being very intimidating or being closed off to a connection is what's blocking people from showing their support but it's like they understand why you are closed off and respect your boundaries.

People feel like you are going very far in life and will hit it big in the future. They want to see you win and are silently watching until then.

The way you carry yourself is top notch alpha type vibes. Specifically for my feminines, this is so sexy about you. You carry this masculine energy in such a sexy feminine way it intimidates and submits even the strongest of men. Very BAWS BOSS like.

RAWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR 🦁

BOSS, BOSS, BOSS, BAWSSSYYYYYY

"Dat ass, dat ass, dat ass, dat ass" 🤨🤨okaaayyyy, someone clearly has a nice juicy ass that needs to be pointed out 🤷🏾‍♀️

You must have a very strong presence in your work place because the energy keeps taking me to a work environment. Either that or you think about work all the time 😂 you really are such an independent woman. Some may call it hyper independent but do you honey. Set the standard as high as you want. Don't let their intimidated ass opinion shrink you 😉

Maybe you own a lot of businesses or aspire to own your own business. People see the potential for you. But I'm getting indecisive energy. You are probably really talented at SOOO many things and are weighing out your options. However, you know that once you have made your decision, there is no stopping you from reaching the top. Everyone else knows it too and that's why they are silently watching you.

You are a rare human. You have an imagination that is so active. Anything you imagine, you create in this world. You were probably a very imaginative kid and highly active. With how hard you work coupled with your crazy active imagination, you actually have the power to manifest whatever you want into existence. Maybe you are aware of that. Maybe you aren't. But channelling this energy feels very magnetic and strong. Keep your imaginations alive. Keep your dreams alive. Chase them.

People wonder how you gained such a bright imagination. They wish they could have that light that you have. You heal a lot of people's inner child by giving them experiences to exercise their imagination. Maybe you enjoy conversations about the trendy things from people's childhoods or you like to talk about the future a lot. You spark creativity and imagination for people and it gives them motivation for life again.

You lead by example. Lots of people are out here running they mouth but you stay steady on your grind proving your worth through your life.

You have silent supporters because you are a silent leader. You don't do much talking. You just do the damn thing and later on people find out what you did and are completely shocked.

You are a bombshell. Not only do you look great but you're like a ticking time bomb in people's minds. You constantly have people stewing over you and then boom, you do something that blows everybody's minds lol. I like this vibe. Very spontaneous and fun to be around

#Spotify #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a card reading #tarot community #intuitive readings #astro community #art #astro notes #astrology #zodiac #leo zodiac sign #scorpio #taurus #aquarius #virgobaby #libra moon

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ashleyh713fanfics · 6 months

Text

Dazai X Odasaku!Sister CH13

Chapter 13: "Celebrating Life Is Stupid”

Summary: After reuniting and growing closer, Dazai and Oda’s sister truly realize the value of each other and the sad bandaged boy falls deeper into the dangerous fascination and infatuation that is Odasaku’s little sister.

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old Dazai, pm! sixteen year old chuuya, ginger is very angry, Suicide mentions, guns, manipulation on both sides, Odasaku death mentions, Dazai being a Simp, Dazai being the demon prodigy but also baby at the same time.

(This is chapter thirteen of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Three Part Intro (Broken up because the first ch is so long)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 6k total

—-

Tapping his feet in already brewing annoyance, Chuuya pushed his phone closer to his ear as each ear grating ring pissed him off by the second. And honestly, by the third one he debated throwing the entire object into the wall next to him in a fit of frustration.

He knew that little mackerel was doing this on purpose, sending his calls to voicemail over and over again. That guy never had anything notable going on and he knew the boss was gonna have his ass if he didn’t get in contact with that little shit.

But fortunately, or rather unfortunately for him, the line picked up on the fifth ring only to hear that same happy go lucky, irritating sing-song tone he alway seemed to use.

He hated that sound more than anything, mostly because the ginger he was about to be made fun of. “Oh Chuuuuuya, what an impatient little dog you are, blowing up my phone like this. Can't get enough of me I see.”

Gritting his teeth to hold his outburst, Chuuya simply scoffed. “Shut up, it's your own damn fault for not picking up. I know you are doing it on purpose, you shitty little mackerel.”

The voice on the other hands only hummed though, obviously unbothered. “So rude, Chuuuya, assuming such things. I am actually very busy right now. Which is why your interruption is way less pleasant than usual. And that’s saying something, considering your presence is never pleasant.”

Chuuya knew better though. “Bullshit, you’re never busy. You’re probably just fucking around somewhere.”

Just then, he heard a fake ass gasp on the side of the phone only for Dazai to answer straightforwardly. “If you call “fucking around” me currently pinning down a beautiful woman then I suppose you're right about that. Isn’t that right, love?”

Almost immediately, the ginger felt bile work its way into his throat, shoving the feeling down before shouting back roughly. “Ah, you’re so fucking disgusting! I don’t wanna know about that shit.”

Oh my god, why did he have to bring up that kind of stuff?! The last thing he wanted to do was picture shitty stupid Dazai like that, especially with some nonamed whore or brain dead manipulated bitch.

That poor soul that was with him right now, the one Dazai just called love, he pitied her, whoever she was.

Forcing the idea from his mind, Chuuya then shook his head before adding. “Listen, the boss gave us another mission in a couple days and I wanna make sure you don’t try to ditch again or else I’m gonna kill you for real, got that?!”

He knew the kid’s pattern after all, Chuuya knew how flighty and unreliable that stupid mackerel really was and he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to get dragged into that again. The first time he flaked was bad enough.

But as expected, Dazai didn’t sound serious, he didn’t even sound remotely interested in his threats as the boy simply waved the question away. “Don’t worry slug, I’ll be there. Can’t have my dog getting lonely, now can I?”

At that name, Chuuya felt his anger spike, the boy unable to stop his outburst. What was his damn problem?! “You fuckin…I’m not a dog!!’

Dazai’s voice only came back confused though, his voice just as annoying, cheerful and mocking as usual. “How strange, all I can hear is woof woof woof so I’m gonna hang up now! See ya, Chibi.”

And just like that, the line turned dead, causing the ginger’s eye to twitch before tightening his hold on his phone before giving into the impulse and throwing the object against the wall next to him.

Watching the phone shatter to prices before his eyes, Chuuya then shook his head before grumbling out his frustrations to absolutely no one.

“I’m gonna kill him..”

——-

Closing his flip phone absentmindedly, Dazai simply smiled to himself before placing the object back into his pants pocket only to hear the voice underneath him speak out hopefully. “Was that Chuuya?”

The boy only shook his head though, pushing his foot further into the speakers chest in order to shove his enemy further into the ground roughly. “Don’t sound so happy about it. That slug shouldn’t gain such a reaction.”

His opponent only put her hands out in defense though, turning her head curiously to the side with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Dazai expected that kind of response though, his eyes moving up in order to glance around the familiar port mafia owned warehouse that they had spent the last hour or so before she spoke again.

And this time, it was far more pushy than before. “Sooo, what did he say?”

Already feeling his lips twist into a bitter smirk, Dazai’s foot then pushed deeper into her chest, exulting double the amount of force in order for her to stop speaking. “Those aren’t the kinds of things you should be worried about, Asa-chan, considering the position you're in right now..”

Which was something that Asagao seemed to be missing in her tiny little brain considering he was currently pinning her down to the dirty and dusty warehouse floor by his foot. He clearly had the upper hand here so there was no reason for her to speak so casually.

That, and the fact that she was asking about Chuuya of all people in this sort of dangerous position caused Dazai’s sick and twisted port mafia heart to darken with malice. He was the one she was supposed to be focusing on, not that glorified hat rack.

She was at the mercy of the demon prodigy and she was acting like they were talking about the weather. He wanted her to regret ever asking about that hat rack in the first place, to apologize between his fingers for not taking his presence seriously and speaking of another so foolishly.

Then to prove his point, the boy reached into his pocket before taking out his gun in order to point the barrel straight at her head with silent warning.

It was a move that would make any one shutter and cower immediately. In fact, it was something he used a million times before to intimate each and everyone of his enemies.

But he had already learned that Asagao didn’t play by the rules of his other opponents.

Turning her head in confusion, the girl simply looked at the foot that was constricting her breathing before returning to the demon with a gentle smile of unbothered idiocy. “Oh, I’m not worried.”

And for a moment, Dazai paused, playing her game. “And why’s that, love?”

He wanted to see what she’d say, how she would justify her calm and collected behavior even though she was staring down the barrel of his gun. Yes, Asagao had outwardly said that she wasn’t afraid of dying by his hand but she wasn’t even trying to get out of it.

And he knew she could, he knew that the hellhound could fight back him if she so chose, so the fact that she was allowing Dazai to pin her down like this was interesting to say the least.

This girl, she was seconds from death and still her eyes held not one bit of urgency.

A moment later, Asagao spoke, her voice full of nostalgic memory as she reached forward in order to pull the barrel closer to her chest. “Because this is how we met, remember?”

Almost immediately, Dazai’s mind seemed to snap back to their first encounter almost an entire year ago. Huh, she was right. They had been in this position before, hadn’t they?

Back when the boy was drowning in his grief, back when he found an intruder in his friend's old place and threatened them in the same exact manner.

If only he knew how utterly life changing that little meeting had been, what kind of storm erupted from the moment he tore that hoodie off her head and looked into her Odasaku eyes.

And it was the same now, the boy looking down at her glasses free expression in order to catalog and trace the iris silently to himself. He seemed to do that a lot lately, getting lost in the emptiness as it swallowed him whole each and every time.

He was grateful for it also, knowing that the dullness of her eyes was way more welcoming then the darkness of his own soul, that by having her here he had switched the method of his demise.

Yes, drowning in Asagao was much more tolerant than drowning in his grief.

A sweeter way to die indeed, a more pleasant experience than what he ever deserved, and yet Dazai couldn’t stop himself from staring even so.

So much so, Dazai felt his lips twist upwards in familiar memory before his finger carefully cocked the gun with a dark chuckle. “Oops. You’re right, how silly of me. Let’s continue where we left off then, hmm?”

Then without a second thought, the executive pulled the trigger as a loud shot echoed through the warehouse. And most people would’ve been horrified by such a reaction, they would have regretted aiming at something he just so clearly said that he admired.

But you see, Dazai didn’t underestimate his girlfriend, not one bit.

Casually putting his hand down on his side, the mafioso then smirked to himself before turning around only to find his enemy a couple feet away, her hands on her hips. “Damn, you really tried to shoot me. I’m surprised and a little impressed, demon prodigy.”

Dazai only shrugged his shoulders though, unbothered. “Well, you told me to look at you as a threat, did you not, Asa-chan?”

It was conversation that was very prevalent in his mind, even today. Sure, the boy should’ve taken their fights easy, he should’ve sparred in a way that made sure Oda’s sister was safe but that wasn’t his style, and neither was hers.

No, Dazai treated her like a real threat, just like she deserved, he trusted that she was smart enough to anticipate his moves and counteract, like just right now.

And the fact that she had done just that also proved his theory that she could’ve gotten out his hold at any time.

What a sneaky shady little hellhound she was. He was onto her big time.

Then as if to prove his internal analysis, he watched Asagao’s face twist into that same twisted, psychotic and giddy smile that enticed him time and time again before watching her fingers twitch in unkept adrenaline just by that simple phrase.

And Dazai would never understand the power his acknowledgment had on her. That just by giving her his entire strength she was already antsy to match it. The hellhound training that had been embedded into her since she was a child, it coated and clouded every other single thought in her brain.

Pushing her fingers up to the ponytail that held her unruly crimson mane in place, Asagao then chuckled darkly before practically ripping the restraint in order to let her hair free.

And with that simple move, she had also ripped down the chains that held the monstrous creature beneath the surface, unafraid of the response it would give. “Oh Samu, you know just how to rile a girl up, don’t you? You’re right about that one, I am a threat. Now allow me to live up to your potential of me and show you how..”

And Dazai loved it, he loved that crazed beast-like look more than anything, his stance grounding itself immediately only to find that his enemy had disappeared in front of his eyes. Ah, she was using her time stopping ability. How cute.

Turning the safety off his gun, the boy then narrowed his eyes before sensing a change of wind to the right in order to let off three more shots just as Asagao reappeared millimeters from his face.

She seemed to register the bullets just in time, her body rolling to the ground in order to just miss the dangerous attacks as Dazai smirked in admiration.

And let’s be honest, should he have been pointing that gun at her like this? No. Should he have been directing his shots with the intent to kill. Also no. It was insanely risky and if she was even second too late then he would have the blood of another Oda on his hands.

Which was something the boy wrestled with internally but it seemed like his port mafia blood craved the opposite, to see just what amazing and enticing ways she could get out each deadly situation he threw at her.

And that desire, that allure was stronger than his fear to keep her locked away forever. No, she had a power, and it was too enticing to ignore, especially for the twisted mafioso who was looking for something entertaining.

He was then taken out of his thoughts as a rough hand wrapped around the barrel of his gun in order to pull it forward without fear as Asagao smirked in victory.

It didn’t matter that the chamber was loaded, it didn’t matter that his fingers were on the trigger and any slight movement could cause the end of her life.

Asa’s grip remained firm, her leg barreling into his side in order for Dazai's muscles to jump and his finger to loosen from the trigger just as she pulled it into her line of sight.

And once the cool metal was in her hands, Dazai wondered what she’d do with it, his senses on high alert only to watch the girl simply empty out the chamber of bullets with one hand, the quiet clinking of metal catching his attention immediately.

How dare she, she had the shot and didn’t take it.

Unsatisfied by her actions, the mafioso then darkened before the boy predicted her next strike in order to grab onto her fist roughly and twist it unnaturally behind her back with a huff.

No, she needed to know that she wasn’t as sly as she thought. That he was onto her little game. “Since you’re all riled up, does that mean you’ll stop holding back now too?”

He wondered how she would react to that, if she would lie about his little discovery or own up to her hypocrisy wholeheartedly? Either could be possible, considering she hadn’t disclosed to him outwardly about her watered down battles.

Asagao told him herself back in Bar Lupin that she was a prodigy just like him, that she could murder like a high level assassin and kill with the quickest of hands.

But if that was true then why hadn’t she tried that with him yet? Why hadn’t Asa displayed intent to kill with Dazai if she was so strongly in favor for believable fights?

It didn’t make sense, and he wanted to know why.

And for a moment, she felt her body still underneath his rough touch, as if she really had to think about his words. He seemed to have broken into something personal for her.

Interesting, she wasn’t denying it. But hold on, was she saying that he couldn’t handle her full hellhound side? That he was some kind of fragile little boy who wouldn't stand a chance? Did she forget that he was in the mafia, the youngest executive in the history of the organization?

She didn’t need to worry about such a thing, besides if that was the result Dazai knew he wouldn’t have opposed. So instead, he coaxed her some more. “Come on, Asa-channn. You’re no fair. I wanna die, remember?”

But even still, Asagao didn’t seem convinced, her body unmoving and eyes closing before he felt her physically shiver underneath his touch, almost like she was reliving some kind of unpleasant memory.

Something scared her, enough to cause such a visceral reaction.

Then Dazai watched as Asagao’s head slumped down into herself, her voice strained and bitter, a tone that the boy had never heard from her before. “I don’t kill anymore, I don’t want to be that person again..

Those words, they felt big, like a massive weight had just fallen on both of their shoulders. But why? What did they mean? What kind of person was she when she killed? What was she like when she truly allowed the hellhound side to fully overtake her? He wanted to ask her.

Yet before he could process that sentence, Asa used his apprehension in order to kick his shin and shift her body around, grabbing onto his forearm before flipping the skinny thin boy backwards over her shoulder.

Feeling his body slam against the ground, the girl then moved on top of him, reversing their previous position with a wave of her finger. “Besides that would be a pretty painful way to go, don’t you think?.”

His entire head began to spin instantly, both from the hit and from her change in attitude. Now she was happy, playful and just as carefree as before. There was no sign of that bitter suffocation that he had heard at all.

Which meant only one thing, she was covering it up.

But to be completely honest, every single thought he had seemed to drown out completely as he looked up at the towering force above him.

Her long messy hair was blanketed over her, shielding the two of them in a cave of her own design as she stared down with that same alluring dead eyed stare that he had admired before.

And not only that, the dim, dingy warehouse lights behind her seemed to melt around her head, bathing her in an ethereal light of some kind, something that made the boy’s heart flip unexpectedly and without warning.

God, she looked like an angel like this, so perfect, so heavenly.

Yet whether she resembled an angel of life or death was to be decided. Perhaps this was a sign from some unknown force, telling him that Oda Asagao would either be the beginning or the end of him.

Perhaps she would be the last thing he would see before leaving this world peacefully or perhaps she would carry him to the afterlife and into the pits of hell with her siren song and her dangerous words. He didn’t know.

He was playing with fire after all, selfish by staying by her side even though he shouldn’t have been allowed to. He was clouding her white light, binding her wings and making her fall to meet his level just because he couldn’t bear to be lonely.

How cruel he truly was, to not have the heart to set her free. It was too late now, the demon and the fallen angel, their fates had been sealed whether he liked it or not.

Reaching his fingers up, Dazai then ghosted across a strand of her falling hair before turning his head in curiosity. “Touché. Well, since you know so much let me ask you, love. What do you think is the most beautiful way to die?”

He wanted to know her answer, more than anyone before. Because he knew that she would answer honestly. She wouldn’t brush it off or disregard the meaning like everyone else.

Dying was a touchy subject it seemed, because although the boy craved it more than anything, it seemed whenever he brought up his little sad goal, no one ever gave him the answer he was looking for.

He didn’t want to be comforted or to hear that there was no beautiful way of death. No, he wanted perspective, real and true perspective. To see what constituted beauty for others, what that meant in terms of what he was searching for.

Because as much as he wished for peace and beauty in death, the boy didn’t know exactly what that meant. How strange it always was, searching for something so desperately even though he didn’t know the true extent of the meaning.

Waiting with bated breath, Dazai allowed her to silently think before the girl put a finger with a quiet and pensive hum. ““Hmmm, that’s a tough one..”

Then she closed her eyes before her lips curved into a confident beam of light. “I guess I would have to say a lovers suicide!”

And that light was blinding, mixing in with the makeshift halo behind her in order for Dazai to turn his head in confusion.He had never thought about that before. Hell, he didn’t even know the term. How curious. “Lovers suicide?”

Nodding to herself, Asa then lifted her pinky finger out in explanation. “Yeah, like a double suicide, you know? Because even if you deemed that the world was awful, you would still have to admit that there was at least one person that made the experience worth it, enough to want to follow them all the way to the afterlife.”

Then to prove her point, the girl simply reached down before interlocked Dazai’s pinky finger with her own, a small smile of her lips as the boy gazed at the sight in awestruck wonder.

Of course she would say something like that. Only Asagao could answer a question about death so hopefully and tragically captivating. Her desire to see the good, to twist the narrative into a positive one, they were extremely prevalent here.

But for once, Dazai didn’t mind it, he liked the idea of having someone to die with. The thought had never crossed his mind before, to have someone to treasure you enough to want to follow you until the very end. It sounded nice. Almost beautiful even, just like he wanted.

Testing out the words on his tongue, the boy whispered. “A double suicide..”

Nodding once, Asa pulled their interlocked pinkies towards her heart in reply. “Yeah! It’s romantically tragic in its own right, don’t you think?”

It was, it really was. In fact, it was so tragically perfect that Dazai knew he would’ve never had thought of such a thing himself. Simply because he wouldn't have allowed himself to think of something so nice and positive.

But now that it was spoken into the world, it couldn’t be forgotten. “I’ve never thought about that before. Do you really think someone would want to do that with me?”

Could it be, could someone really dedicate themselves to him to that extent, enough to give up everything, to walk hand and hand with him to the end of the line? No, that was impossible, no one wanted him, especially in that way.

Asa only shrugged her shoulders though. “You never know! Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

Then all at once, clarity seemed to flash in his eyes. “You’re right..”

That’s it, he just had to ask every woman he saw, then maybe one day he’d get lucky.

Reaching forward, Dazai then shifted his hands in order to grasp onto her wrist before meeting her eyes with a hopeful smile. “Hey Asa-chan! Do you wanna..”

Yet Asagao seemed to already know where he was going with his question, her hand immediately unlatching from his in order to playfully shove her palm into his face and push him back onto the ground. “Sorry Osu, I would do a lot of things for you but killing myself won’t bring me closer to my brother. The only death I’ll accept is one by your hand.”

Damn it, she had said that before, hadn’t she? Ah well, worth a shot.

Throwing his arms out with a child-ish whine, Dazai then pouted his lips at the rejection. “Boo, you give me such a good idea and then turn me down? That’s not very nice. I’m sad now.”

Asagao only laughed though, her tiny giggles taking up the space of his question before pointing a finger out in an offer of her own. “Well, we can’t have that. Oh, I know. How about we stop by the shop on the way home and I’ll buy you some canned crab to make up for it?”

And although it wasn’t what he wanted, her offer enticed him just as much, the boy’s eyes sparkling with pure joy in order to nod his head excitedly.

“Deal!”

——

Stepping through the door of Odasaku’s apartment, Asagao happily turned on the light, the plastic bag full of canned crab clinking together as she moved, only for Dazai to quickly take off his black mafia jacket and throw it on the ground.

And in the past couple weeks of them reuniting, the girl noticed Osamu's childish traits more and more, an action that made her strangely happy. Sure, she still wasn’t sure if he was being completely authentic but she couldn't deny that he at least looked more free when he did them.

In fact, their relationship had grown exponentially since the night Asa cared for him and took off his bandages. She was worried that by pushing that much she would’ve scared him away but it seemed to be the opposite, and for that she was grateful.

Now he came over whenever he pleased, without excuse, and without worry. She would make sure he ate and they would watch TV together and sometimes they would go out to spar like tonight. If anything, the two had definitely moved past the term strangers and into more of a friendship based relationship.

They understood each other, most of the time without words, and that was refreshing to both of them, considering no one else could do such an impossible thing. They were alike and yet so different depending on the circumstance. It was almost fascinating to think about.

She had never had that before, someone that understood so much with so little.

And where most people would call it invasive, Asagao saw his nosey and deductive attitude as a marvel. Although, she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, considering she stepped out of boundaries before.

But those days seemed long gone as the girl turned back to Osamu only to pause when she noticed discolored tan stains on the bandages around his arms. Well, that was weird.

Reaching her hand up, Asagao then lightly touched his forearm, careful to keep her touch on the gauze as she inspected the source. “What is this?”

Although all she received was a boy-ish smile, filled with fake innocence. “Coffee?”

Almost immediately, something about his sentence seemed off, causing Asa to cock an eye with suspicion. “I didn’t even know you drank coffee..”

Then all at once, the boy nodded his head erratically, his lips moving at a mile a minute in order to give an over the top laugh. “Oh, yeah! I love it, I can’t get enough of it. That’s why I spilled some on me this morning. Oops, I’m so clumsy, aren’t I? Didn’t even notice it till now.”

Pouting his lips all at once, Dazai then whined to himself dramatically. “But now that you mention it, it feels really gross, like super uncomfortable. Asa-chan, you gotta save me! I don't know how I can go on like this..!”

His story was strange, considering she had never heard him speak about liking coffee before, nor did he ever choose that as his drink of choice. Usually it was just whiskey and any other alcohol he could get his hands on.

And what Asagao didn’t know was that she was completely right. In fact, Dazai had never touched the stuff before this morning. He didn’t love coffee, but the reason he had bathed himself in it was purposeful.

You see, ever since the first night Asagao changed his bandages, Dazai couldn’t get enough. He wanted that feeling back, the one that made him feel so safe and cared for. He couldn’t get it out of his head, and trust me, he had tried.

Which led him to taking matters into his own hands, aka finding ways to dirty his bandages so that he would have an excuse to give Asagao the next time he saw her.

At first it started with blood, making sure to purposely hurt his enemies in the most messy way possible in order to soil the white gauze, but then it moved to other things such as alcohol, and rolling around in dirt or dunking himself in nearby rivers.

And today’s plan involved coffee. He had gotten the idea when he saw one of his subordinates walk around the corner with one. So naturally, he ordered the guy to give it up in order to pour the lukewarm liquid on his arms with delightful glee.

Anything to get Asa to touch him like that again, to feel so important and special again. Was it underhanded? Possibly, but the boy knew he couldn’t just come out and ask for such an embarrassing thing.

Staying silent for a moment, he then watched as Asagao seemed to turn his wrist, examining the sight before she let him go with a smile. “I’ll go get the bandages. Meet you on the couch.”

And just like that, he had won yet again, causing the boy to practically skip to the plush cushions of the sofa, unable to hide his delight in song as he watched her go into Oda’s bedroom to receive the first aid kit. “Yay! Asa-chan is gonna help me, she’s gonna help me, yeah! Asa-chan is the best, she’s the very best, yeah!”

Once she turned the corner though, Asagao couldn’t help but close her eyes, already sensing his deceptive demeanor. No one spilled things that clumsily, especially Dazai. Which meant that it was for a purpose.

But because his actions didn’t seem self destructive, the girl chose to ignore them. It’s not like she minded changing out his bandages time and time again. In fact, she loved doing it, it made her feel closer to him.

Returning to the sofa, Asagao then placed herself beside him before placing the gauze on the table only for Dazai to immediately loosen his port mafia tie from his neck with one hand. “Lean closer, darling.”

So she did, the girl pushed her head closer to him so that he could slip off her glasses before unraveling the tie as she averted her gaze from his in silent wait.

Back in the warehouse she may have been able to look at him without her blurry barriers but now that she wasn’t distracted by the fight everything seemed way harder. She still couldn’t look at him head on like this, no matter how much she tried.

Dazai didn’t seem to mind though, his fingers only focused on securing the black tie around her eyes and into a firm knot as Asagao felt herself let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

So much better.

Then once her view was obstructed, Dazai couldn’t help but soften at the sight of her instant compliance each and every time.

He loved how she never protested to such a strange request, how she never judged him for not being able to do this without the blindfold. No, she knew that he needed this to continue and Dazai was grateful for that.

Once it was done, Asagao moved her fingers towards the coffee stained coverings before slowly undoing each bind as Dazai felt his breath hitch inside his throat at the emotionally intimate contact.

And even though they had done this exchange about a dozen times, each one felt like the very first. It never got easier, it never made his ears stop ringing and his skin stop shivering.

But like some psychotic masochistic man, Dazai never pulled away, his eyes always entranced with her careful and respectful moves, each calculated, each with a certain intent.

He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the way she cherished him.

Because as scary as it was, her gentle non judgemental fingers gave him a sense of calm along with the chaos. They terrified him and yet they always soothed him in every kind of mitch matched way.

They reached down to the deepest part of his soul, the one he didn’t know existed and embraced it in a warm and welcoming hug. And though the warmth was uncomfortable and foreign, he didn’t outright hate it anymore.

In fact it was quite the opposite, the boy wanted to run to it, he wanted to jump head first into that dangerous and vulnerable place and never return. He was addicted in every possible way, addicted to the idea of being held by her forever.

This was all her fault, how could she? Making him experience such a life changing feeling, he knew this would happen, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to resist this once he had it. How dare she, how dare she make him feel such weak and fragile emotions again.

How dare she coax him into thinking he deserved such a wonderful experience like this?

Those thoughts made him want to be protected by her hands forever, and with the low murmur of the TV in the background and the sickeningly sweet sound of Asagao’s hum to break through the noise, Osamu did feel exactly that.

Protected.

Slowly and without words, Asagao then hummed to herself in order to wrap the fresh clean bandages around his arms before securing the sight and pulling down her blindfold. “Do you feel better now?”

He simply nodded, still in a daze as Asagao smiled softly in return before replacing her glasses. “Good, I’m glad.”

A soft silence appeared then as the two kids allowed it to fill the room in order to turn their attention to the screen that was playing the latest anime episode of the show that they had been interested in lately.

This was nice, just being with him, relaxing without a care in the world. It made the foreign walls of her brother’s apartment feel more personal and belonging. Hopefully it was the same for Osamu also.

Just then, the sounds from the TV snapped her back to reality, watching as the the main character clapped excitedly as the room around her revealed her friends and family, all of them wishing her a happy birthday in joyish surprise. Aw, how cute. They planned all that out for her.

The sight couldn’t help make Asagao pause though, realizing something almost immediately. “Hey, Samu. Now that I think about it, when is your birthday? My brother never said in his letters and I’ve always been curious.”

Yet that’s when she watched Dazai pause, his voice rather dead and monotone, as if he was mentally waving the question away. “Oh, it was five months ago.”

Feeling her face fell in horror, Asa shook her head in denial. “W-Wait..I missed it..?”

No, that couldn’t be. That meant that during the time they were apart he celebrated his birthday by himself? How sad. No one even knew and he just let it pass like nothing, didn’t he?

Wait. That meant that Dazai was now sixteen, didn't it? She didn’t even realize.

It didn’t matter that he never mentioned it until now, how could possibly let such a thing pass so quietly without a word? Now she felt awful. “Oh no, I’m so sorry Samu! What kind of fake girlfriend am I? I didn’t even say happy birthday to you. What is wrong with me, I should've asked sooner, I should’ve..”

Yet the boy only cut her off though, his tone clearly dismissive. “Don’t worry about it. Celebrating life is stupid anyways.”

But how could she not worry about it? That was an impossible task, one that she knew she couldn't complete “B-But..I..”

Dazai only pushed a finger to her lips though, stopping any sense of self hatred she was about to utter before shaking his head.“I already said don’t worry your pretty little head, love. Now, stop that frown or else you’ll turn ugly like Chuuya.”

Then the boy simply smiled before flopping his head onto her lap comfortably in order to turn towards the TV and ignore the conversation completely. “Now, shush, pillows aren’t supposed to be noisy.”

And when the air turned silent once more, it was far more solemn as Asagao absently moved her hand to his hair with an unsatisfied sigh.

But for Dazai, the topic had already left his mind as the soothing feeling of her hand on his hair caused his eyes to grow heavier and heavier with bliss, immediately getting lost in the soft caresses and lulling touch.

How could he think about anything when her magic had already utterly captivated him?

Feeling Osamu’s head sink further into the safety of her lap, Asagao felt her eyes soften at the sleeping boy before thinking back to her previous question.

And though Dazai seemed to forget about it, she could not, his sad little words consuming her mind all at once.

Celebrating life is stupid anyways

Closing her eyes with dissatisfaction, Asagao then shook her head, not liking the implications of his words as she wished to change them even so.

And she would change them, she had to.

“But it’s not just any life, it’s your life. ”

21 notes · View notes

iwritesickfic · 5 months

Text

Surprise, part 3

final part! you can read part 1 here, and part 2 here :)

They get home around 10 that night, and Theo almost feels worse than he did this morning. The sharp, almost stabbing pain from earlier has been replaced with a deep throbbing ache that starts in his throat and extends into his jaw and even his ears. He can talk now, at least, but it still hurts like a bitch. He's on pain medication again, mercifully, but he's dreading the moment it wears off. If it hurts this badly with the medication… He doesn't even want to think about it.

He's dizzy and nauseous from the anesthesia, and he's still running a fucking fever. He can't remember what it feels like to not a run a fever. He wants to cry, but he's too dehydrated and exhausted. The energy to sob just isn't there, nor the tears.

Seamus wrote an Instagram post for him, which regrettably includes a photo of him in the hospital, gown and tubes and everything else. While he's not normally vain, it’s more than a little embarrassing. He’d agreed to it, of course, but there wasn't much choice. From a PR perspective, they needed the photo. Even with it, there will still be rumors that he's covering up for a stint in rehab.

Seamus has been fussing over him constantly, and he knows it’s only because he’s worried, but it’s making him feel even worse.

He’s sitting on their entryway’s bench, trying to catch his breath from walking up their front steps, and Seamus gets on one knee to untie his sneakers for him. That’s the last straw. He pulls his foot up onto the bench, shaking, unsteady fingers fumbling with the laces.

“Stop! I can do it,” he snaps, and Seamus sighs, but doesn’t say anything. He stands up slow and his hand just brushes Theo’s knee before he speaks.

“Do you want anything from the kitchen?” He asks, and Theo can tell he’s trying hard not to sound worried or anxious. Even though he’d love some tea he sets his jaw and shakes his head. “Ok,” Seamus says softly before walking down the hall.

God, Theo’s such a piece of shit. Seamus is just trying to help, and he’s acting like a jerk. Still, he’s so frustrated and in so much pain that it needs to go somewhere, and he has very little control over where.

When he’s finished taking off his shoes, which takes about ten times as long as normal, he heads through the living room and into the kitchen. He stands in the doorway and watches as Seamus bustles around, his too big glasses falling down his nose, his hair a greasy unbrushed mess. It’s sticking up from the way he keeps nervously running his hands through it. He doesn’t seem to see Theo standing there, too absorbed in trying to throw together the ingredients for a soup while simultaneously talking on the phone.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Theo standing there, an onion in one hand and a handful of carrots in the other.

“I…I need to call you back,” he says to the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. He fumbles to put everything down, rushing through goodbyes, before looking back at Theo.

“I’m sorry,” Theo says, and Seamus shakes his head.

“It’s ok,” he says, a quick forced smile jumping onto his lips before fading. Theo can tell he’s still trying hard to look unbothered, and it’s really not working. “Is everything… Do you want help getting upstairs?”

“No, I…I’m acting like a dick.”

Seamus’s face finally softens, and he walks closer, resting his hand on Theo’s shoulder.

“It’s been a tough day, I know. I just…” He takes a deep breath. “I want to do whatever you need me to do. And I don’t want to make you feel like a child.”

“No, you’re not, I’m…” His head is swimming and he feels his body slump more heavily against the doorframe. “I don’t know.”

“Do you wanna come sit?” He asks. “Or you can have some time alone,” he adds quickly, though it’s clear he’d prefer the former.

“What are you making?”

Seamus looks confused, like he forgot he was making anything at all. He looks back at where the ingredients rest on the counter.

“Oh, um, just the carrot soup you like.”

“You don’t have to make me anything, it’s ok,” he says, and Seamus presses his lips together, anxious again. Theo hates that he’s the reason for that look on his face.

“You don’t want any?”

“No, I do, it’s just…it’s late, I don’t want to make you cook.”

Seamus looks relieved and shakes his head.

“No worries at all. Come sit.”

Theo just manages to heft himself up to sit on the kitchen counter next to where Seamus has started chopping the vegetables. Without thinking, Theo grabs his hand as he walks past, pulling him in so he’s slotted between his legs. Seamus is taller than him this way, having to tilt his head down to meet Theo’s eyes.

They’re so close, and when one of Seamus’s hands rests on his waist, he realizes how freezing he feels. Seamus’s hands are so warm.

He leans toward him, arching up so their lips can meet, and moans softly when their mouths touch. He presses closer, his hand on the nape of Seamus’s neck as he pulls him in. A sharp pain in his jaw has him pulling away with a gasp, a wave of pain rippling out down his spine and up into his cheeks.

“Are you ok?” Seamus asks, sounding frantic, and Theo nods, even though it makes his head spin. He knows he’s being ridiculous but he goes to kiss him again, and Seamus returns it gently before leaning back.

“I want…” Theo breathes out, his fingers hooked on the belt loops of Seamus’s jeans. He doesn’t know how he was going to finish that sentence. Seamus brushes a bit of hair behind his ear.

“Nothing strenuous, remember? For two weeks?”

Theo groans, tipping his head forward into Seamus's shoulder until a lance of pain makes him straighten. Seamus smiles softly, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Trust me, I’m…” His eyes trace Theo’s body up and down. “I want that too. But definitely not tonight at least, ok?”

Reluctantly, he lets Seamus go back to peeling and chopping the carrots.

“I’m not allowed to do anything,” Theo mumbles, and Seamus squeezes his hand.

“Well we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together for the next month or two, you’ll be sick of me by the end.”

Theo leans back against the cool tile wall, and it makes him shiver.

“I’ll never get sick of you.”

–

Since that moment in the kitchen last night, Theo hasn’t stopped shivering. Even at 2 PM the next day, he feels like he’s been dipped in ice water.

Seamus is working on his laptop while Theo half-lies beside him in bed, a show playing on the TV. Seamus's body feels like the only source of warmth, and he’s pressed tight to his side. His jaw and throat and ears are still throbbing, arguably worse than yesterday, though Seamus tells him it’s normal.

The pain comes in waves, and between each one he’s bracing himself for the next peak. It's difficult to not moan out loud.

“What are you working on?” he mumbles, speaking setting off wave after wave after wave.

“I have a million fucking emails. But I’m forwarding them all to Zeke.”

Theo takes a deep breath, bracing himself to speak again.

“Thank you. For coming. And staying,” he whispers, and Seamus tightens his arm around him. A younger Theo would’ve suggested Seamus go back to Dublin. He would've insisted he’d be fine alone, and Seamus shouldn't stay.

Seamus leans over and kisses the closest part of him he can reach - the crown of his head.

“My only regret is I didn't come sooner.”

“You didn't know. I should've told you. I just…” He trails off, rubbing his aching eyes. He knows what Seamus is thinking - yes, you should've. He's just too kind to say it.

“It’s alright,” he says gently, and closes his laptop. “I know you don't want me butting in but it's fucking infuriating what they did.” His fingers are carding through Theo’s hair.

“It’s my fault,” he mumbles back.

“When they found out how sick you were they should've pulled the plug, no matter what you said or didn't say.” Seamus's mouth is set in a hard line. Still, his fingers are gentle. Theo is quiet until a particularly harsh wave of pain makes him let out a choked, soft sound. He breathes hard through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Do you want ice?” Seamus asks, voice tender and worried again.

“No, no,” Theo manages to get out. He's already freezing, he can't bear the thought of ice on his skin.

“I'm gonna be right back,” Seamus says, already getting up, and Theo’s face crumples, and he actually whimpers his name.

“Seamus…”

He must sound as miserable as he feels, because Seamus actually stops, eyebrows furrowed.

“Shh, hey, it's alright.” He's cradling Theo's head, and Theo tries to grab his wrist.

“Seamus.” His voice comes out in a choked, pleading whisper.

“I know,” he murmurs gently, “I’m gonna get something that’ll make you feel better. I promise.” He doesn't move yet, though. Like he's waiting for Theo's permission.

Reluctantly, Theo lets go of his weak grip on his wrist, and Seamus kisses his head before leaving.

Theo has no idea how much time passes. He's freezing. He curls into the spot where Seamus was, warmth still lingering on the sheets. Nothing helps, though. Nothing ever helps. The god awful ache keeps pulsing in his jaw and throat and the base of his skull.

Then there’s a blessedly warm something under his chin, and he can’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. The mattress shifts, and he feels Seamus moving him into his lap. Not quite moving him, there was just the suggestion of it and his heat-starved body is pressing itself closer.

He ends up chest to chest with him, between his legs as Seamus is half propped up. The warm something is still under his chin.

“How’s that?” Seamus asks, and Theo just hums. It’s good. It’s better. His head rests so perfectly on Seamus’s chest, and he sighs contentedly as his fingers find their way into his hair again. “You’ll start feeling better soon.”

It’s another three days of hell before he actually does.

In the middle of the night he wakes up drenched in sweat. Seamus must feel him wake up, because he turns over, eyes only half open.

“Y’ok?” he mumbles, his hand immediately stroking a few strands of hair from his forehead.

“Yeah, I’m just…fucking soaked,” he mumbles back. But there’s something else. He feels strange, his whole body feels off somehow.

“Are you cold?” Seamus asks, and Theo shakes his head. He’s not cold, but he’s not hot either. Seamus palms his forehead, then his cheek. “Yeah, I think it’s just your fever breaking,” he says casually. Then suddenly everything makes sense. He hasn’t been without a fever in a month. He lets out a long sigh, his whole body shuddering.

He rolls over so he’s curled into Seamus’s body, and falls asleep knowing that finally, tomorrow morning he’ll feel better.

#my writing #sickfic #illness kink #oc theo #oc seamus #fever #whump

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alulaspeaks · 1 year

Text

Better things

for @wincestwednesdays week 1: americana (never mind it being a week+ late)

They drive out at midday, down an old logging road bordered by No Trespassing signs faded to a papery yellow and pock-marked with bird shot. They pass a pull off, and Dean catches a glimpse of a gravel beach on the edge of a glistening lake as they head deeper into the woods. It’s hot out for September in the Northwoods, and humid, too. Dean’s got sweat beading down the back of his neck by the time they're rummaging through the trunk for their gear.

“Should have brought the last couple beers,” he grumbles, swatting at the mosquito probing at his shoulder. He can picture them sitting in the motel’s mini fridge and half wishes he could go back and crawl in with them.

Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s a hunt, not a party.” Which is dumb, given the number of times they’ve pulled beers from the cooler while they were both still bloody. Sam swings his backpack over his shoulder, and it clinks suspiciously, but Dean doesn’t say anything, just makes a note and pulls out the map.

Dean hates these doghair forests that pop up after logging--young trees growing so thick together you can’t see through them for shit--but they stick to the map and Sam’s compass and soon enough it opens up into older forest and then to a clearing. One side borded by reeds, a break opening to the water’s edge on the far side of the lake Dean glimpsed earlier, and in the shadows of the trees on the other side, the remnants of an old log cabin slouch in the shade.

He catches Sam’s eye, pulls out the EMF reader, and they get to work.

It goes as quick and easy as it can when you have to locate and dig up an unmarked grave. It’s getting dark by the time Sam dodges a flying tree branch and drops the lit book of matches into the grave. There’s the satisfying fwoosh of the gasoline catching and then the even more satisfying burst of light as the ghost flames out, stringy white hair falling in burning clumps and disappearing before they hit the ground.

“Never gets old,” Dean says, and grins at Sam as they catch their breath. He stands from where he's crouched and his lower back twinges. He groans and rubs his knuckles in to the worst of it.

"Well, somethings get old," Sam says, flashing Dean a smug little grin as if he isn't graying at the temples, as if they weren’t both bitching when they were knee deep in the grave. It’s rude is what it is and Dean is not letting Sam score this point uncontested.

"Shut up and give me my beer," Dean says and grins when Sam freezes, caught out, and then breaks into that dorky, sheepish smile he gets sometimes. But he heads over to his bag and pulls out a motel towel wrapped loosely around the beers Dean heard clinking around. He loves being right.

The distant crunch of gravel and the slamming of car doors snags Dean's attention. The grave is still burning, making them way more visible than he'd like, the last thing they need is someone getting curious.

He walks over to the shore and sees a car pulled up on the gravel beach he spotted earlier. The doors are wide open, headlights on, lighting up the water’s edge in the evening gloom. Someone crosses through the beams, dragging what must be a whole damn stump behind them. And if Dean had to hazard a guess, theirs won't be the only fire burning for long. Which means they've got nothing to worry about.

The breeze has died down since the sun set, which means there’s nothing to keep the mosquitos away. One buzzes past Dean’s ear and he tries to swat at it discretely. He can handle almost anything, but he’s got zero tolerance for itching, and no desire to give Sam--who pretends to be unbothered by mosquitos even though he hates them as much as Dean--another in to poke fun at him.

Sam comes over, hands Dean an open beer and they settle in to watch the wood pile grow. There's three guys and they’ve got to be teenagers, judging by the sheer size of the branches they drag over and the truly frightening amount of lighter fuel they douse the pile with.

"Too much," Sam says, shaking his head.

"Gonna lose an eyebrow."

Another car pulls up beside the first and three girls pile out. "Ladies!" one of the boys calls, voice carrying across the lake. "Your bonfire awaits."

He lights a match with a flourish and drops it, and just like Dean knew it would, the whole pile explodes into flame with a roar. It sends the boys diving for cover. Everyone turning back to stare at the jumping flames. The shocked silence soon turns into giddy laughter, as the fire settles into a steady blaze.

"Hey," Sam says and the half-buried humor in his voice sets Dean's alarm bells blaring, "remember that time--"

"No. Nope. No idea what you're talking about. Drink your beer." Dean absolutely remembers the first time he used too much lighter fluid. Only he wasn't lighting up a bonfire, and it wasn't a girl he was trying to impress.

Dean can hear Sam’s quiet laughter gusting across the mouth of his beer bottle.

"Sam," Dean warns, but Sam grins bigger, and tucking it behind the lip of his beer isn't doing a thing to hide it.

"What? I'm just drinking my beer."

“Right,” Dean says, pursing his lips to hide the way he wants to laugh, too.

Across the lake, there's a high-pitched squeal as one of the guys throws a girl over his shoulder and marches into the shallow water. The squeal turns into a shout as he tips her in, but a second later he goes down, taken out at the ankles.

“Ah, young love,” Dean says and elbows Sam who just huffs and shakes his head.

“What, you too good for a little end of summer fling?” Dean turns to look at Sam, catches him picking at the edge of the label where its gone soggy with condensation.

“Nah,” Sam says with a shrug, “guess, I’ve just outgrown it.” Then he looks at Dean, and he's still got a smile hanging around the corner of his mouth but it's different now. It's the kind that makes the world go a little quiet, makes Dean wonder how the hell they got here, after everything. "There's better things.”

Maybe there’s a world out there, in all of Chuck’s failed drafts, where Sam looking at him like that doesn’t make Dean feel like he could never want anything else, but it isn’t this one.

“Yeah, I'll drink to that,” Dean says after a moment. And if he has to clear his throat, Sam doesn’t say anything, just holds his bottle out for Dean’s to clink against.

Laughter drifts across the lake. The fuzzy sound of Tom Petty playing on a distant car radio, hot summer air turning cool in the moonlight, and everything is right as it should be.

“Gonna run down the battery,” Dean says as he steps up into Sam’s space, watches Sam’s smile go fond.

“Amateurs,” Sam says and lays a heavy hand on his waist.

Dean loves the way Sam’s eyes darken, loves the sharpness of his jaw, the curve of his neck he leans--wait a damn minute. There’s a mosquito on Sam’s neck, right by the collar of his shirt.

Dean acts on instinct, smacks him, hard. Sam jolts in surprise, stepping back and covering his neck.

“Mosquito,” Dean says by way of explanation and turns his bloody palm to Sam. “You’re welcome.”

Sam pulls a face, dodges back when Dean tries to rub his bloody palm clean on his shoulder.

But that’s not the end of it. They’ve clearly been discovered by a whole damn swarm of mosquitos because suddenly they’re everywhere. There’s a prick on the back of his hand and Dean smacks at it with side of his beer bottle, perfectly good beer fizzing over his fingers and splattering across the ground.

“Frigging mosquitos!” Dean says, a little louder than he should while Sam is busy swatting inelegantly at the air around his face. Sam catches his eye and they both freeze for a second.

“Wanna get the out of here?” Sam asks.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, and downs the last of his beer.

If they grab their gear and sprint for the Impala, no one needs to know. It’s just them after all.

#wincest wednesdays #wincest #happy wincest wednesday #this didn't turn out how I wanted #but I finished a thing #and that has it's own merits #mosquitos suck #it is a universal truth #my fic #stone number one #post 15x19 golden years

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exquisiteserotonin · 1 year

Text

Footsteps to Follow

Part 1: Saudade

Summary: The loss of a loved one lasts forever and every person finds different ways to heal.

Saudade /souˈdädə/ noun an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone

Pairing: Food Truck Owner Joel Miller x Female Character (based on someone from a movie but has become all her own in this)

Warnings & Tags: Mature (18+ only), but I will also put an E for explicit here for future chapters. Chapter contains heavy angst.

Word count: 1.8K

A/N: I have had this idea for some time and working on it and trying to flesh out this female character. AU Joel Miller, no outbreak, but has still lost Sarah.

And as always a big, big, big thank you to my magical sluts ilysm @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @youandmeand5bucks @sparklefarts38 @blueheat1-blog1 @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @basicoccult

Footsteps to Follow, Part 1: Saudade

Alice tapped the pristine, white table cloth with her fingers. Her chipped burgundy nail polish stood in stark contrast to the elevated ambiance of the restaurant. A deep exhale of boredom and frustration unintentionally escaped her as she stared back at her mother and her mother’s husband, John, who sat across from her. Ear shattering silence emanated the air between them as her mother looked at her, the corners of her mouth twitching in judgment and disappointment. Beside her, she felt the forceful and exasperated exhale that pushed against her from her older sister, Molly.

Alice reached for one of the artisanal dinner rolls from the basket at the center of the table that no one else seemed to be eating. She broke it in half with enough zeal that crumbs scattered over the table. One even managed to jump into John’s glass of water. Alice shook and pressed her lips tightly together, trying to stifle the laughter that wanted to leave her body. She took a bite, frowning almost immediately.

If this artisanal bread passes for good, I’m scared at what dinner entails. She thought to herself.

Alice reached into the pocket of her leather blazer for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. As if her mother’s disdain couldn’t be more egregious, she let out a loud huff as she glared at the contents in Alice’s hands.

“Seriously, Alice,” her mother tutted, “still with that disgusting habit?”

Alice rolled her eyes so hard, she could feel them press against the back of her eyelids. Her lips that she held so tightly together bubbled with a quick snicker. She stared back in amusement as John eyes darted back at her and then at his wife.

“Carol, come on now,” he said, his voice quaking with growing panic as he made futile attempts to quell his wife’s obvious derision.

“No, no, John,” Alice snapped back, lifting a hand to thwart any words that he tried to add, “I’m going to give you all a minute and take my disgusting habit outside.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have come,” Alice heard her mother say as she strutted away towards the front door of the restaurant.

She barely noticed as her older sister followed behind her. The cool air greeted her kindly giving her a place to think and breathe, unlike the stifling air of the lavish restaurant that confined her to a suffocatingly small table for four.

“Alice,” her sister’s shrill voice cut through the benevolent fall air, “why can’t you just give mom a break?”

“Seriously, Moll,” she said as she took a drag off her freshly lit cigarette, “after all that shit mom’s put me through I think I’m entitled to be a little bit of a bitch.”

“Ali, what are you talking about?” Molly’s voice cracked, too reminiscent of their mother’s. “She gave you everything you needed.”

Rolled eyes and exasperated sighs seemed to be the special order for the evening. Alice allowed herself one more drag before she turned to her sister.

“First of all, don’t call me Ali---only dad got to do that,” she said, her voice and her words were unbothered. “Second of all, she sent me to that hell hole of a school.”

“You needed help, Alice,” she said with so much desperation you almost felt sad for her.

“No! What I needed was dad!” Alice snapped, tapping ashes off her cigarette. “I needed you to acknowledge that I probably fucking needed therapy---I dunno, someone to validate my feelings about dad.”

“Dad was a murderer, Alice.”

“And you, mom, his fucking best friend, and the government threw him away and treated him like shit,” she took a bold step forward toward her older sister. “That fucker couldn’t even be bothered to tell us about dad---no body, no funeral…nothing.”

“You really think he deserved one?” Molly’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

Another chortle escaped Alice as she stared back at her sister, her jaw slightly agape as she shook her head.. She felt her chest trembling and her jaw tighten as tears started to sting the corners of her eyes. The pain was unexpected and hit her like a stray bullet. Hope still harbored inside Alice that she would somehow still be able to commiserate with her sister after all these years. Through the pathos of it all, she had to turn her eyes from her sister glancing briefly at the food parked only a few meters away from where they stood. Her eyes met briefly with the man inside who seemed to be staring back at you, no doubt eavesdropping on your heated conversation.

“You know what, I can’t do this,” Alice sighed, dabbing at tears peeking from the corner of her eyes with the palm of her left hand. “Mom was right about one thing---I shouldn’t have come.”

“Alice, come on please,” Molly pleaded.

“No, it’s fine, you guys do your thing, I’ll do mine,” Alice replied, “Not that it matters, but I already asked the maitre’d to run my card---your dinners are paid for. Have at it.”

Alice swaggered away as Molly called after her, one, two, three times before she disappeared back into the restaurant. It was her weakest effort at best. In spite of her lack of expectations, she found herself crying in a mixture of real sadness but mostly frustration. Her stomach rumbled, the crumbs of the artisanal bread sat low in her stomach, emphasizing her hunger. Her eyes maneuvered towards the food truck she had spotted earlier, thinking it was as good an option as any to satisfy her hunger. She examined the words written in stylized paint on the outside of the humble food truck: Texas BBQ Beef Brisket, Hot Dogs, Smoked Sausage. The man she had seen earlier emerged from a hidden corner of the food truck. He leaned his right elbow against the wall, looking down at you with his other hand resting at his hip.

“Hi there,” the man answered, his voice traveling through the cool, fall air like warm mulled cider. “Can I help you find something, miss?”

The man’s face had Alice taking a few uneasy steps backwards. He was quite a bit older than her, she surmised. In his early to mid 40s at least, she surmised by the subtle, but weary lines on his face and the pops of gray that were sprinkled throughout his brown hair and patchy beard. There was a familiarity in his ruggedly handsome face, his full bottom lip that peeked beneath his mustache, and his furrowed brow that looked like it was stuck in a painful memory.

“Miss, you doin’ alright?” He asked, surprising her with genuine concern that she just wasn’t used to hearing. “Can I suggest somethin’?”

“Umm, yeah, sure,” she replied and then added, “you’re not from around here are you?”

“No miss, I am not,” he confirmed with a nod, “I suggest the brisket sandwich, if you want a true Texan flavor; there really isn’t anything that can compare.”

Alice found herself biting her bottom lip at the suggestion, wondering if she created the innuendo in her own mind while he was simply offering a polite suggestion. The thought was fleeting and she turned back to thoughts of the back and forth words between her and her sister. The terrible burden of her family still weighed heavily on her. Feelings of confusion and second guesses about her feelings of loyalty toward her father consumed her. A killer? Yes. A killer driven to kill? Evidence pointed to it. A father who loved her who was taken from her too soon without explanation or apology? That was an absolute truth.

“Miss, miss, excuse me?” The man waved at her to get her attention, his brow heavy with concern.

“Oh Jesus,” Alice answered, recovering from the intrusions on her brain, “I’m sorry…I’m just in my head.”

“I’m not tryin’ to pry or anythin’” the man said, drawing her in again not just with his voice but a warmth and kindness that emanated from his dark, brown eyes, “but you sure you’re alright?”

She reached over the counter to receive the bag that had the sandwich that the man had prepared for you. Her finger tips grazed his as she met his gaze with hers and her face flushed with emotion. The man’s lips curled up to the right side of his face revealing a dimple with his reassuring smile. An unease settled over her as she felt compelled to offer an explanation in exchange for his concern.

“I’m fine, just some family stuff,” Alice replied, “but who doesn’t have that?”

“Truer words never spoken, huh?” He said with a nod “I’d say try not to let it get you down, but it ain’t that easy.”

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Alice asked. “It’s just, you remind me of someone I used to know.”

The man's eyebrows lifted upwards in surprise. He held a large hand to his chest as he looked to his left and right, in mock surprise. “Me? The name’s Joel.”

“Joel, huh?” Alice smiled. “Nice name for a nice face; I’m Alice, Alice York.”

“Well, Alice York, it’s good to meet you,” Joel said, keeping a steady gaze on her as he leaned over the counter inside his food truck. “For what it’s worth, now you know where to find the best Texas brisket in town.”

Alice laughed, feeling more joy in this moment than any second she had spent inside a fancy restaurant with her so-called family. A low buzzing vibrated in her jacket. Taking her phone from her pocket, her screen was alight with text message notifications. The lightness she was feeling left her stomach and she felt her shoulders tighten with heightened awareness of everything around her.

“Well, I’ve gotta run,” Alice said, as she turned back to Joel a feeling of disappointment welling inside her, “but thanks for the food and the kindness, Joel.”

He waved kindly to her as she walked away. Her attention turned to her phone reading the messages before she dialed.

“France? When does the flight leave?” She said briskly. “Zero-six hundred? Got it. I’ll notify you when it’s done.”

There were no goodbyes, just a click from the other end. Pulling a paperclip from her pocket, she dismantled her phone and ejected the SIM card. She tossed it onto the sidewalk, crushing it under the heel of one of her boots. She turned back to look at the unassuming food truck, to Joel, brooding and handsome, who she caught still looking after her as she walked away. The truth of it all, was that she wished she could have just stayed there just a few more moments to have a real conversation with an attractive man like other single women her age. Perhaps it was the curse of being her father’s daughter. And as she often did in the countless quiet moments she had to think, she wondered if she was making him proud.

#juice collective #juice bar collective #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x female character #equalizer 2 #dave york #pedro pascal characters #the last of us hbo #au joel miller

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